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"9. 



MARIE CORELLI 

THE WRITER AND THE WOMAN 




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T.F.G.COATES 

AND 

R.S. WARREN BELL 







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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



MARIE CORELLI 

The Writer and The Woman 



,, By 

T: F. G. COATES 

Author of "The Life of Lord Rosebery" 

and " 

R. S. WARREN BELL 

Author of " Bachelorland," etc. 




WITH 16 FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 



PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO. 

PUBLISHERS 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 


Twf Cop»«« 


Received 


JUN 


1903 


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Entry 


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COPY 





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Copyright, 1903, by 

George W. Jacobs & Company, 

Published June, 1903 



«• •#«*•••• * **!'* 



Preface 



Miss Marie Corelli's unique personality has 
aroused interest and curiosity among all classes of 
society, and we are aware that the present work 
will be diligently searched for intimate information 
regarding the subject of these pages. It behooves 
us, therefore, to remind those who peruse this 
volume that the writing of contemporary biography 
is a most delicate literary performance; so, while it 
has been our aim to set before the public as many 
particulars as possible concerning Marie Corelli the 
Woman— as distinct from Marie Corelli the Writer 
—it will be apparent to the least intelligent of our 
patrons that, in common courtesy to Miss Corelli, it 
is possible for us to publish only a limited number 
of personal minutise concerning the novelist during 
her lifetime. 

In making a general survey of Miss Corelli's 
various books, we have endeavored, in each case, 
to quote such passages as may be read with interest 
independently of the context, or such as tend to 



4 Preface 

explain the spirit animating the novelist whilst 
engaged upon the volume under treatment. 

It has been our endeavor to keep this biographical 
study free from offense to any living person, or to 
the memory of any who have passed away. In 
cases where we have found it necessary to refer in 
vigorous terms to the words or conduct of certain 
individuals, we have been actuated solely by a 
desire to have justice done to Miss Corelli. And 
in this respect we prefer not to be regarded as her 
champions so much as "counsel" briefed for the 
defense of a woman who has had, and still has, to 
contend with a very great number of adversaries, 
not all of whom are in the habit of conducting their 
warfare in the open. 

In conclusion, we beg to offer xMiss Corelli our 
grateful thanks for permitting us to have access to 
letters, papers, and other documents necessary to 
authenticate our facts, as without such permission 
we could not have undertaken our task. 

Thomas F. G. Coates, 
R. S. Warren Bell. 

March, igoj. 



Contents 



CHAPTER I 

THE HEROINE OF THE STORY 

A Bentley Letter— The Effect of a Publisher's Advice on a 
Writer's Career— The Success of "A Romance of Two 
Worlds " without help from the Press— The Unfairness of 
appointing Novelists to Criticise Novels or act as Pub- 
lishers' " Readers "—Marie Corelli's Universality, and the 
Reason for it — Her Endeavors to Promote Holy Living 
—Her Unequaled Boldness— Which is her Best Book ?— 
" Thelma " most Popular as a Love-story — Her Short 
Works— The Difficulty of awarding her a Definite Place 
in Letters i^ 

CHAPTER II 

MARIE corelli's CHILDHOOD, ETC. 

Marie Corelli, Adopted as an Infant, by Dr. Charles Mackay 
— Description of Mackay's Career — The '« Rosebud " and 
her Fancies— Absence of Child Playmates— Marie Corelli 
at the Convent School — Her Musical Studies — Dr. 
Mackay's Illness, and her Return Home for Good— Miss 
Bertha Vyver — George Eric Mackay: his Chequered 
Career — " Love-Letters of a Violinist " : their Publication 
and Reception 26 

CHAPTER III 

" A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS " 

Its Original Title— The MS. Accepted by Bentleys— Its 
Name Suggested by Dr. Mackay— The Press and the 
5 



6 Contents 

" Romance " — Its Reception by the Public, and its Effect 
on Readers — Marie Corelli and the Supernatural — 
Synopsis of Plot — Heliobas and his " Electric Creed " — 
X-Rays and Wireless Telegraphy foretold in this Book . 48 

CHAPTER IV 
"vendetta" and "THELMA" 

Mr. Bentley's Opinion of " Vendetta " — Practically a True 
Story of Naples during the Cholera Epidemic of 1884 — 
The Remarkable Ingenuity of its Construction — The 
Novelist's Habit of Creating a Pretty Picture only to 
Destroy it, as Exemplified by the Opening Chapters of 
" Vendetta " and After Events — The Appalling Ferocity 
of Count Fabio and the Culminating Scene of his 
Vengeance. 

Mr. Bentley's Enthusiastic Comments on " Thelma " — The 
Story Compared with «* She," to the Latter's Disadvantage 
— A Romantic Setting — The Main Theme of the Book — 
Thelma's Bewilderment at the Hollowness of Society — 
Her Husband's Alleged Unfaithfulness — Her Flight to 
Norway and the Sequel — Miss Corelli's <' Unsparing 
Brush " — The Weak Spot in the Book— Thelma's Winning 
Personality 64 

CHAPTER V 

«♦ ARDATH " 

Its Theme — Congratulations from Lord Tennyson— A sug- 
gested Corelli City in Colorado — An Example of the 
Novelist's Descriptive Powers — Theos Alwyn, Agnostic — 
His Interview with Heliobas — The Dream and the Poem — 
The Field of Ardath— The City of Al-Kyris— Sah-Luma, 
the Poet Laureate — The Religion of Al-Kyris — Lysia, 
High Priestess of the God-Serpent— The Prophet KhosrQl 
and his Predictions — The Fall of Al-Kyris — The Av/aken- 
ing of Alwyn and his Return to London — The Converted 
Poet — " Ardath " a Book for all who Doubt — Six Tests 
for Spiritualists 79 



Contents 7 

CHAPTER VI 

"WORMWOOD" AND "THE SOUL OF LILITH '* 

Pauline de Charmilles : a Character Sketch— Her Engagement 
to Beauvais and the Arrival of Silvion Guidel— " First 
Impressions "—Pauline's Confession and Beauvais' First 
Bout of Absinthe-drinking — The Exposure on the Wed- 
ding-Day — More Absinthe, and the Murder of Guidel — 
The Meeting between Beauvais and Pauline, and the 
Suicide of the Latter — Pauline's Corpse at the Morgue — 
A Denunciation of Absinthe — A Suggestion to Marie 
Corelli Concerning the Drink Question in this Country. 

" The Soul of Lilith " an Attempt to Prove the Apparently 
Unprovable — A Reason for Marie Corelli's Immense 
Popularity — El-Rami and the Dead Egyptian Girl — His 
Experiment — Heliobas again — " The Two Governing 
Forces of the Universe " — " Poets are often the Best 
Scientists "—"The Why, Why, Why of Everything "—A 
Solution of Life's Problems 112 

CHAPTER VII 
MR. bentley's encouragement 
The Thorny Path of the Literary Pilgrim— Old Publishers and 
New — Mr. George Bentley an Honorable Example of the 
Former Type — The Happy Relations that existed between 
Miss Corelli and her Publisher— A List of the Novehst's 
Works Published by Bentleys — Mr. Bentley's Apprecia- 
tion of " Ardath " — His Refusal to make Overtures to the 
Press — A Reference to Miss Rhoda Broughton and the 
Treatment dealt out to her by Critics — Mr. Gladstone's 
Visit — Concerning " Wormwood " — Maarten Maartens 
and his Opinion of " Ardath " — Press Attacks on " The 
Soul of Lilith" — The Late Queen Victoria and Marie 
Corelli's Books — A Comment on the Chivalry of the Press 
— A Carlyle Anecdote — Mr. Bentley as Author — His 
Book : " After Business " — The Inestimable Value of Mr. 
Bentley's Advice to the Young Novelist 134 



8 Contents 

CHAPTER VIII 

«« BARABBAS " 

Charles Kingsley and «« Women's Writings '* — Marie Corelli's 
Idea in Penning "Barabbas" — The Character of 
" Judith "—St. Peter's Definition of a Lie— The Character 
of Jesus of Nazareth — Melchior's Speeches — The Treach- 
erous Caiaphas — The Magdalen — The Scene of The 
Resurrection — The Tragedy of Love and Genius . . . . 152 

CHAPTER IX 

«« THE SORROWS OF SATAN " 

As a Book — How the Critics Missed the Allegorical Idea 
of the Story — The Opinion of Father Ignatius: "Tens 
of Thousands will Bless the Author " — A Plea for more 
Womanliness among modern Women — Geoffrey Tempest 
— ;^5,ooo,ooo from Satan — Prince Lucio Rimanez and 
his Associations with Tempest — Lady Sibyl Elton — 
The Effect of Perfect Beauty on a Man— The Modern 
Gambling Mania — Viscount Lynton's Last Wager — The 
Character of Mavis Clare, — Lady Sibyl's Bitter De- 
scription of Herself — Her Marriage with Tempest, and 
the Disillusionment — Her Passion for Prince Riminez 
and Subsequent Suicide — The Conception of Satan, 
and an Explanation of his Position : «' Satan becomes 
on Terms of Intimacy with Man only if Man shows 
that he wishes to Travel an Evil Course " — The Yachting 
Cruise and Tempest's return to Christian Ways — 
Opinion of the Late Rev. H. R. Haweis. 

" The Sorrows of Satan " as a Play — How Miss Corelli has 
Suffered from the Defective Law of Literary Copyright — 
The Play Written, and Read at the Shaftesbury Theatre- 
Miss Corelli's Opinion of it — Miss Evelyn Millard's Atti- 
tude with Regard to the part of " Lady Sibyl " — " The 
Grosvenor Syndicate " — The Play Produced — Other Ver- 
sions — How the Dramatic Rights of Novels have to be 
Protected 164 



Contents 9 

CHAPTER X 

"THE MIGHTY ATOM" AND " BOY " 

Novels with a Purpose — The Criminally Mistaken Up-bring- 
ing of Children — Lionel Valliscourt an Eleven-year-old 
Atheist — The Cramming Process and its Effect on him 
— His Breakdown and Holiday — His Return to find that . 
Little Jessamine is Dead— His Grief and Pathetic End — 
The Power of a Book like "The Mighty Atom" to 
Teach. 

« Boy "—A somewhat Similar Work— The Responsibilities of 
Parents — " Boy's " Childhood— His Neglected Condition 
— Miss Letty and the Major—" Boy " goes to School — The 
Change Wrought in him — His Entirely blase Demeanor 
at sixteen—" Boy " Guilty of Drunkenness and Fraud — 
His Final Reformation and Death 192 



CHAPTER XI 

"THE MURDER OF DELICIA " AND " ZISKA " 

Modern Husbands — The Money Marriage — The Average Man 
and his Attitude in this Respect — Delicia Vaughan, 
Novelist and Beauty — Her foolish Infatuation for Lord 
Carlyon and Consequent Misery — " The Rare and Beau- 
tiful Blindness of Perfect Love "—The Penalty Paid by 
Delicia. 

« Ziska " : A Cairean Romance — Ziska the Flesh-clad Ghost 
of a Long-ago Dancer — " The Mighty Araxes," her 
Former Lover, Presented in Modern Shape as Armand 
Gervase, a French Painter — The Renewal of his Passion 
for Ziska— His Rival—" The Attraction we Call Love " 
a Preordained Destiny — Dr. Dean, savant^ and his In- 
teresting Theories — Beneath the Great Pyramid — Ziska's 
Terrible Revenge 207 



lo Contents 

CHAPTER XII 

" THE MASTER CHRISTIAN " 

How it was Commenced and Interrupted — The Novelist's 
Severe Illness — Death of George Eric Mackay — The 
Literary Dinner and the Critic — Sir Francis Burnand 
Describes " Boy " as *« a Work of Genius " — Mr. Stead 
and " The Master-Christian " — The Novelist's Views on 
Roman Catholicism — Miss Corelli's Open Letter to 
Cardinal Vaughan — The Story of the '« Master-Christian " 
— Cardinal Bonpre at Rouen — Paulism — The Discovery 
of the Boy Manuel — The Miraculous Healing of the 
Lame Fabien — The Cardinal and Manuel at Paris — 
Angela Sovrani — The Abbe Vergniaud, Atheist — A 
Flower Legend — Manuel and Angela 222 

CHAPTER XIII 

"THE MASTER CHRISTIAN " {continued^ 

The Abbe Vergniaud's Sermon and the Attempt on his Life 
— He Confesses that his Assailant is his Son — The 
Cardinal's Leniency towards the Abbe and his Persecu- 
tion by the Vatican — Monsignor Moretti — Manuel and the 
Cardinal at Rome — Manuel's Extraordinary Address to 
the Pope — " Come and Preach Christ as He Lived and 
Died " — The Effect of the Boy's Exhortation on the Pope 
— Other Characters — Angela's Picture — A Poem by Dr. 
Charles Mackay — The Death of Cardinal Bonpre .... 246 

CHAPTER XIV 

"TEMPORAL power" 

An Unprecedented Sale— A Note on its Title — Reviewed by 
Three Hundred and Fifty Journals, although not sent out 
to the Press — Criticisms from Lloyd ^s Weekly Newspaper 
and the Review of Reviews — A Reply to Mr. Stead's 
Suggestion that Certain Royal and other Characters in the 
Book have Living Counterparts — The Novelist's Emphatic 
Denial in this Respect — "Carl Perousse, Secretary of 



Contents 1 1 

State " — The European Statesman Miss Coielli had in her 
Mind when Drawing this Character — The " King " of 
•'Temporal Power" — Morganatic Marriages: the 
Novelist's Denunciation — Attempts on the Part of Book 
Trade Journals to Quash the Success of the Novel, and 
their Retractations — The Rejection of the King's Love 
by Lotys, Woman of the People : a Quotation 265 

CHAPTER XV 

SPEECHES AND LECTURES 

The Novelist's First Public Speech: an Appeal for a War- 
wickshire Church — An Address Delivered to Stratford 
Working-men on "The Secret of Happiness" — Hard 
Work the Best Tonic in the World— The Novelist at 
the Edinburgh Philosophical Institution — " The Vanishing 
Gift " : an Address on the Decay of the Imagination — 
Art in the " Old World " Period and Art now — Imagina- 
tion an Artist's First Necessary — Modern Wonders 
Imagined when the World was Young — The Novelist at 
Glasgow — An Address on " Signs of the Times " Delivered 
before a Huge Audience — An Allusion to the Prince of 
Wales and his Famous Speech at the Mansion House — 
" The Old Country must Wake up " — " The Advancing 
and Resistless Tide of Truth "—A Notable Peroration . . 281 

CHAPTER XVI 

MARIE CORELLI'S VIEWS ON MARRIAGE 

The Novelist's Definition of Marriage — The Modern " Market " 
— " One Woman, One Man " — Marie Corelli's Exhortation 
to Women — " God will not be Mocked " — The Religious 
Instruction of Children — The Abolition of Religious 
Education in French Schools and its Unhappy Effect on 
the Country — Lionel Valliscourt : a Pathetic Example of 
" Cram "—And « Boy " : of Parental Neglect 298 



1 2 Contents 

CHAPTER XVII 

SOME PERSONAL ITEMS 

The Helen Faucit Memorial — Marie Corelli's Successful Cam- 
paign in Behalf of Shakespeare's Burial Place — Portraits 
of the Novelist — Marie Corelli Declines to Review " The 
Eternal City " — An Introduction to Mr. Labouchere — 
Use made of a *« Private and Confidential " Letter — " Self- 
advertisement " : Some Comments on Accusations of this 
Character brought against Marie Corelli by certain Sections 
of the Press — The Invitation to the Abbey on the Occasion 
of the King's Coronation — An Invitation to open a Noncon- 
formist Bazaar at Brighton, and why it was Declined — 
Letters from Dr. Parker and the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes 
— " The Ethics of Criticism " : a letter by E. Rentoul Esler 
— " To the Quarterly" : Some Verses by Marie Corelli . . 311 

CHAPTER XVIII 

AT STRATFORD-ON-AVON 

The « Local Color " in Marie Corelli's Books — " I Imagine 
it must be so, and I find it generally is so " — Why the 
Novelist went to live at Stratford — " Hall's Croft," " Avon 
Croft," and " Mason Croft " : her Successive Residences 
— Her Affection for Stratford and her Regret that the 
Memorial Theatre is so little used — Her Benefactions — 
Instances of Kind-heartedness in Other Writers — Marie 
Corelli's " Life-Programme " — Her Personality " Striking 
in its Simplicity and in its Power "' — The Novelist as a 
Shakespeare Enthusiast — Her Desire to see Stratford 
become the " Bayreuth of Literature " — The Novelist's 
" Public " : the Vastness of her Constituency — Her Friends 
— A Character Sketch of Marie Corelli by Mr. J. Cuming 
Walters — Mr. Gladstone's Parting Benediction 332 



Of the above Chapters, II, V, VIII, IX, XII, XIII, 
XVI, and XVII are by Thomas F. G. Coates ; and Chapters 
I, III, IV, VI, VII, X, XI, XIV, XV and XVIII by R. S. 
Warren Bell. 



Illustrations 



"Mason Croft," Miss Corelli's Present 

Residence Frontispiece 

A Boating Place on the Avon . . . Facing page 80 

A Favorite Reach on the Avon . . ** " 80 

What Becomes of the Press Cuttings . " " 146 

Marie Corelli's Pet Yorkshire Terrier 

-Czar" " "146 

« Killiecrankie Cottage" v^^here « Ziska " 

was Finished . . • • " "212 

"Avon Croft" where "The Master 

Christian " w^as Finished . . " "212 

" Hall's Croft " where Marie Corelli Wrote 

Half of " The Master Christian " . '* " 228^ 
Winter at " Mason Croft " . . . " " 320 y 

The Elizabethan Watch Tower, " Mason ^ 

Croft" " "336 

Miss Corelli's Boatman and Punt . . " " 346 */ 



/ 



MARIE CORELLI 

The Writer and the Woman 



CHAPTER I 

THE HEROINE OF THE STORY 

*'Keep a brave heart. You are steadily rising. 
People recognize that you are an artist working 
with love, not a machine producing novels against 
bank-notes, with no interest in its work. But keep 
a good heart, little lady. It is the way with people 
of imagination and keen sensibility to have their 
moments of depression. ... I believe you 
will emerge out of all this with your brave little 
spirit, and I shall rejoice to see you successful, be- 
cause I believe you will not be spoilt by success." 

Thus wrote George Bentley, the publisher, to 
Marie Corelli on November 15th, 1888. At that 
time only three of her books had appeared— ** A 
Romance of Two Worlds," •* Vendetta," and 
''Thelma"— and she was engaged upon the latter 

>3 



14 Marie Corelli 

portion of " Ardath." She was in the spring of her 
career, probing the Unknown and the Unseen, the 
Long Ago and the Future, with daring flights of 
fancy that had already set the world wondering. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Bentley watched over his proUgee 
with a care that was almost parental. A number 
of extracts from his wise and helpful letters will be 
given in the course of this work; and the reader 
will not fail to observe that there was very much 
more in Mr. Bentley's attitude than a mere desire to 
coin pretty expressions for the benefit of a charm- 
ing young woman possessed of undeniable genius. 
He could be very candid in his criticisms, when 
occasion demanded, but his tact was unfailing, and 
his sympathy boundless. He was one of an old 
school of which but few examples now remain. 
He was a personal friend as well as a publisher, 
one who could regard an author as something more 
than a creature with a money-producing imagina- 
tion. He was of the school that produced Black- 
wood, Murray, Smith — the famous scions of those 
houses — and others whose names have ever been 
uttered with affection by those men and women of 
the pen who had dealings with them. One has 
only to peruse the correspondence which passed 
between John Blackwood, on the one side, and G. 
H. Lewes and George Eliot, on the other, to appre- 



The Heroine of the Story 15 

ciate in full the power of encouragement and the 
influence a publisher possesses in his negotiations 
with a writer of promise. 

Of a truth, Marie Corelli had need of such a 
friend, for her early career, as everybody knows, 
was thorny and troublous. A publisher greedy for 
a golden harvest might have prevailed upon her to 
write quickly, and, as a natural consequence, not at 
her best, for the certain gains which such work 
would produce in abundance. Mr. Bentley depre- 
cated undue hurry. ' * You are now a person, " he says 
in one of his characteristic letters, **of sufficient im- 
portance not to have to depend on appearance or 
non-appearance. You have shown not only talent, 
but versatility, and that you are not a mere manner- 
ist with one idea repeating itself in each book; 
consequently, when you next come, there will be 
expectation." 

In advising one possessed of so seemingly inex- 
haustible a fund of mental riches, Mr. Bentley was 
undertaking no light task. Moreover, he was offer- 
ing counsel to a writer, who, to many people, was 
an absolute enigma. 

For when Marie Corelli appeared as a novelist she 
was altogether new. She was something entirely 
fresh, and, to a certain extent, incomprehensible; 
as a result, she was reviled, she was told that she 



i6 Marie Corelli 

was impossible, she was treated as a pretending 
upstart: the critics wokrfd have none of her. 

But her success with her first book, " A Romance 
of Two Worlds," was due to itself, and not to either 
the praise or the censure of the press. Only four 
reviews of this romance appeared, each about ten 
lines long, and none of the four would have helped 
to sell a single copy. But the public got hold of it. 
People began to talk about it and discuss it. Then 
it was judged worth attacking, and the more con- 
tinuous its sale the more it was jeered at by the 
critical fault-finders. 

Marie Corelli did not invite adverse criticism. 
She was quite a girl, untried and inexperienced, 
and had, apparently, from her letters to her friends, 
a most touching faith in the chivalry of the press. 
"I hope," she wrote to Mr. Bentley, "the clever 
men on the Press will be kind to me, as it is a 
first book [the 'Romance']; because if they are I 
shall be able to do so much better another time." 

But, much to her surprise, the clever men of the 
press bullied her as though she had been a practiced 
hand at literature, and abused her with quite un- 
necessary violence. She did not retort upon them, 
however. "Vendetta," "Thelma," **Ardath," and 
other works were produced patiently in rotation, 
and still the abuse continued — and so did her sue- 



The Heroine of the Story 17 

cess. It was only with the publication of " Barab- 
bas" and the distinctly unfair comments that book 
received, that she at last threw down the gauntlet, 
and forbade her publishers to send out any more of 
her books for review. 

This action practically put an end to the discus- 
sion of her works in the literary journals by critics 
with warped ideas of fair play. For they failed to 
remember that, though his draftsmanship may here 
and there display a flaw, an artist should be judged 
by the conception of his design— by his coloring — 
by the intention of his work as a whole. 

Five years have elapsed since the one-sided truce 
was called; those critics, wandering by the book- 
shops, see people issuing therefrom bearing in 
their hands the hated volumes — the brain-children 
of the woman who had met them in unequal 
combat. They read in the papers of the gigantic 
sales of these works; they lift their hands in 
horror, and sigh for the gone days of authors who 
appealed but to the cultured few. So waggeth the 
world of letters; so arriveth that person to be 
trampled on — offend he or she the critics by ever so 
little — the New Writer. 

It is manifestly unfair that a novelist should 
criticise novels; yet this is frequently done. It 
goes without saying that the novelist who devotes 



l8 Marie CorelU 

valuable time to reading and criticising the works 
of his brethren in art cannot be in very great de- 
mand, as fiction is paid for at a much higher rate 
than reviewing. That Miss Corelli's earlier works 
were submitted for valuation to those engaged— if 
we may use a commercial phrase — in the same line 
of business, may account for the bitterness that 
characterized many of the notices. Let the critic 
criticise, and the novelist write novels; then, each 
attending to his trade, the new writer will receive 
fairer play. 

The rough-and-tumble journey through the now 
defunct house of Bentley which ''A Romance 
of Two Worlds " experienced, prompts us to ques- 
tion the advisability of appointing novelists to act 
as publishers' ** readers." Quantities of manuscript 
pass through the hands of a publisher's literary 
adviser, and in six weeks he may imbibe — he can- 
not help imbibing — enough ideas to set him up for 
six years. A novelist who spends a considerable 
portion of his lifetime weighing and sorting the 
raw material of other novelists, must find it a 
matter of great difficulty to reconcile his conscience 
with the performance of such duties. 

It must often have occurred to the men who have 
so harshly criticised Miss Corelli's works to demand 
of themselves a logical reason for her boundless 



The Heroine of the Story 19 

popularity— a popularity that extends to every 
corner of the earth. "The Mighty Atom" has 
been published under the auspices of the Holy 
Synod in Russia, and " Barabbas " has been trans- 
lated into Persian, Greek, and Hindustani. And 
these are but two instances of her universality. 
Why is Marie Corelli read the world over, while 
the authors upon whom many responsible judges 
of literature shower encomiums can claim but an 
Anglo-Saxon public, and not a tremendous one 
then ? 

It is because, primarily, her chief mission is to 
exploit, with knowledge, with conviction, and 
with limitless zeal, the most vital question of this 
or any age — man's religion. Since the world was 
created this has been the chief motive of hu- 
manity's actions. The Israelites, for taking to 
themselves false gods, were sold into bondage; 
thousands of years later, because the tomb of 
Christ was threatened, Christian Europe, putting 
aside international differences, arose in pious wrath 
and sent forth its men of the Red Cross to do 
battle with the infidels. In misguided zeal, and 
prompted by a morbid fanaticism, "bloody" 
Mary destroyed the peace of our own fair land, 
and earned for her memory undying execration 
by burning at the stake the unfortunates who 



20 Marie CorelH 

differed from her in their rehgious views. The 
impiety of its rulers was the root of the evil which 
plunged France into the throes of a ghastly Revolu- 
tion. Even on every coin of the realm at the 
present day, — on every sovereign that changes 
hands at race meetings, on every penny that the 
street arabs play pitch and toss with, we are 
reminded that the reigning monarch is the De- 
fender of our " Faith." 

A simple belief in God pervades everything that 
Marie Corelli has written, and from this devout 
standpoint she views all those other things which 
constitute mundane existence — Love, Marriage, 
buying and selling, social intercourse, art, science, 
and education. 

Her books abound in passages which bewail the 
fact that — to extract a phrase from the " Master- 
Christian" — "the world is not with Christ to-day." 
Her sole weapons pen and paper, the author of 
that remarkable book is making a strenuous effort 
to dispel the torpor to which Christianity is 
gradually succumbing. The keynote of her work 
is sounded by Cardinal Bonpre, when he deplores 
the decay of holy living. "For myself, 1 think 
there is not much time left us! I feel a premoni- 
tion of Divine wrath threatening the world, and 
when I study the aspect of the times and see the 



The Heroine of the Story 21 

pride, licentiousness, and wealth-worship of man, I 
cannot but think the days are drawing near when 
our Master will demand of us account of our serv- 
ice. It is just the same as in the case of the in- 
dividual wrong-doer; when it seems as if punish- 
ment Were again and again retarded, and mercy 
shown, — yet if all benefits, blessings, and warnings 
are unheeded, then at last the bolt falls suddenly 
and with terrific effect. So with nations — so with 
churches — so with the world ! " 

Marie Corelli is bold; perhaps she is the boldest 
writer that has ever lived. What she believes she 
says, with a brilliant fearlessness that sweeps aside 
petty argument in its giant's stride towards the goal 
for which she aims. She will have no half-measures. 
Her works, gathered together under one vast cover, 
might fitly be printed and published as an amplified 
edition of the Decalogue. 

It is small wonder, then, that she has not earned 
the approbation of those critics who are unable to 
grasp the stupendous nature of her programme; 
they, having always held by certain canons, and 
finding those canons brusquely disregarded, retort 
with wholesale condemnation of matters that they 
deem literary heterodoxy, but whose sterling sim- 
plicity is in reality altogether beyond their ken. 
Fortunately, their words have failed to frighten off 



22 Marie Corelli 

the public, which, ever loyal to one fighting for the 
right, has supported and befriended Marie Corelli 
in her dauntless crusade against vice and un- 
belief. 

Other writers have doubtless written in a some- 
what similar strain, and it has not been their fault 
that the woman who forms the subject of this 
biography has eclipsed all the worthy makers of 
such books who have preceded her. Power has 
been given her, and she has not proved false to her 
trust. Genius is Heaven-sent, to be used or abused 
according to the will of its possessor; let those so 
gifted beware lest they cast the pearls of their brain 
before swine, for of a surety there will come a day 
of reckoning when every genius, as well as every 
other man, shall be called upon to give an account 
of his stewardship. 

Unlike the majority of her contemporaries, Marie 
Corelli does not subsist on a single " big hit." She 
is a twelve-book rather than a one-book woman. 
It is a fortunate circumstance for a writer when 
people disagree in regard to his or her chef-d'oeuvre. 
There are those— and their name is legion — who re- 
gard ''Thelma" as Miss Corelli's best book, while 
others — and their name, too, is legion — account 
" The Sorrows of Satan " the worthiest of her pro- 
ductions. The overwhelming success of the '* Mas- 



The Heroine of the Story 23 

ter-Christian " served somewhat to bedim the 
lustre of her former writings, but in many hearts 
the moving history of the sweet and unsophisti- 
cated Norwegian maid will always cause " Thelma" 
to hold chief sway. 

" Barabbas," at once the most scriptural and de- 
votional of its author's long list of publications, has 
won almost as great a popularity as " The Sorrows 
of Satan," being now in its thirty-seventh edition. 
**The Mighty Atom," of which nearly a hundred 
thousand copies have been sold, is regarded by the 
public with singular affection, many children, as 
Mr. Arthur Lawrence has told us in The Strand 
Magazine, sending Miss Corelli " all sorts of loving 
and kindly greetings " asa token of their sympathy 
with little Lionel and Jessamine. The turbulent 
and stormy progress of "A Romance of Two 
Worlds " through the sea of criticism has made 
this book more familiar to the ear than some of its 
successors, though its sale has not equaled that of 
half a dozen of its fellow-works. 

Miss Corelli's average book is about as long as 
two novels of the ordinary six-shilling size put 
together; but she has published some comparatively 
short stories— notably "Boy," "Ziska," and "The 
Mighty Atom," as well as some brochures; to wit, 
"Jane," a society sketch; "Cameos;" and her 



24 Marie Corelli 

tribute to the virtues of *' Victoria the Good." 
" Boy," though published about the time that the 
"Master-Christian" appeared, was accorded the 
heartiest of welcomes, being now in its forty-sixth 
thousand. 

In days to come the " Master-Christian " and 
" The Sorrows of Satan " will, we venture to pre- 
dict, be sufficient alone to preserve their author's 
fame; and, for those who delight in a love-story, 
" Thelma " will constitute a perpetual monument 
to its creator's memory. 

Owing to the unique and unclassifiable nature of 
her productions, it is impossible to award Miss 
Corelli a definite place in the world of letters. It is 
under any circumstances a thankless task to arrange 
writers as one would arrange boys in a class — ac- 
cording to merit. There are the poets, the histor- 
ians, the novelists, the humorists, and — the critics. 
Marie Corelli occupies a peculiarly isolated position. 
A novelist she is, in the main, and yet hardly a 
novelist according to cut-and-dried formulas; she 
is, unquestionably, a poet, for there is many a song 
in her books not a whit less sweet because it is 
not set in measured verse and line. So we may 
safely leave her place in the Temple of Fame to be 
chosen by the votes of posterity, for there is one 
critic who is ever just, whp goeth on his " ever- 



The Heroine of the Story 25 

lasting journey "with gentle but continuous step; 
who condemns most books, with their writers, to 
oblivion, but who saves a certain few. 
And his name is Time. 



CHAPTER 11 

MARIE CORELLl's CHILDHOOD — EARLY INFLUENCES — LITER- 
ARY BEGINNINGS — THE MACKAYS— FATHER AND SON 

In explanation of an unannounced and unex- 
pected afternoon visit in 1890, Mr. W. E. Gladstone 
said: "I came because I was curious to see for 
myself the personality of a young woman who 
could write so courageously and well, and in whose 
work I recognize a power working for good, and 
eminently calculated to sway the thoughts of the 
people." 

Such were the veteran statesman's words — well 
remembered by a friend of the novelist's who was 
present at that eventful meeting. 

This young woman was Marie Corelli, the 
novelist, whom so many lesser men have abused, 
because, unlike Gladstone, they have not studied 
her work, or have done so only with the determina- 
tion to find fault. 

The baby girl for whom so distinguished a career 
was destined, was adopted, when but three months 
old, by Dr. Charles Mackay, that excellent journal- 
ist, poet, song writer, and author. The love be- 

26 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 27 

tween Dr. Mackay and his adopted daughter was 
one of the closest and most sweet of domestic 
experiences. When reverses and suffering came to 
the man of letters, his joy and consolation was 
in the careful training of the much-loved little girl; 
and in his closing years he had the satisfaction 
of knowing that she had fulfilled his hopes and 
achieved success. 

To the high character of Dr. Charles Mackay 
must be attributed the chief influence in the forma- 
tion of the child's ideas; a glance, therefore, at the 
career of that gentleman cannot fail to be of inter- 
est. A native of Perth, Charles Mackay was born 
March 27th, 181 4. His father, George Mackay, was 
the second son of Captain Hugh Mackay, of the 
Strathnavar branch of the Mackay clan of which 
Lord Reay is the chief. Charles Mackay received 
his earlier education in London, and, subsequently 
proceeding to a school at Brussels, made a special 
study of European languages. He early com- 
menced writing for Belgian newspapers, and, also 
whilst a youngster, sent poems to English news- 
papers, which readily published them. A volume 
of "Songs and Poems" followed; and then, re- 
turning to England, Mr. Mackay became a con- 
tributor to The Sun, assistant sub-editor of The 
Morning Chronicle, and editor of The Glasgow 



28 Marie Corelli 

Argils. He was married in 1831, and by his first 
wife had three sons — Charles, Robert, and George 
Eric, and also a daughter, who died when she was 
twenty-two years of age. Of the sons, Charles is 
still living, being resident in America with his wife 
and family. Robert is dead, but is survived by 
a son and a daughter. Of George Eric Mackay, the 
second of the three sons, more will be told anon. 

During Charles Dickens's brief editorship of the 
London Daily News, a number of verses by Mackay 
were published in that newspaper, and attracted 
much notice and praise. They were subsequently 
republished in a volume as " Voices from the 
Crowd." A selection of these verses was set to 
music, and quickly caught the ear of the people, 
"The Good Time Coming" reaching a circulation 
of well-nigh half a million. 

In 1848 Mr. Mackay became a member of the 
staff of The Illustrated London News, and in 1832 
was appointed editor of that journal. Here, through 
the enterprise of Mr. Ingram, the song-writing 
capacities of Mr. Mackay were put to good use, and 
a number of musical supplements of The Illustrated 
London News were produced. " Songs for Music " 
afterwards appeared as a volume in 1856. The 
pieces included such prime favorites as "Cheer, 
Boys, Cheer!" "To the West! To the West! " 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 29 

" Tubal Cain," " There's a Land, a dear Land," and 
" England over All." Set to the taking melodies of 
Henry Russell and others, these songs, it may truly 
be said, have been sung the world over, wherever 
the English language is spoken. 

Mackay severed his connection with The Illus- 
trated London Neivs in 1859, and in the following 
year started The London Review, which did not 
succeed. Failure was the fate, too, of another 
periodical, Robin Goodfellow, founded by him 
in 1861. During the American Civil War, Mackay 
was the special correspondent of the New York 
Times. Dr. Mackay's efforts in prose were as 
numerous and as interesting as his verses. His 
"Forty Years' Recollections of Life, Literature, and 
Public Affairs from 1830 to 1870," is a classic and a 
literary treat to every one who reads it; for herein is 
set forth a graphic picture of the life and times 
of that most interesting period, not only in England, 
but in the United States. His relations with Greeley 
and with President Lincoln were of altogether 
exceptional interest. Few men had experiences so 
varied and interesting as those of Charles Mackay— 
his degree, by the way, was that of LL. D. of 
Glasgow University — and few men were so capable 
as was he of vividly describing what he did, and 
saw, and heard. 



30 Marie Corelli 

In addition to writing many volumes of songs 
and ballads himself, it should be mentioned that 
Mackay compiled the well-known "A Thousand 
and One Gems of English Poetry." 

From the year 1870 he engaged in little regular 
work, though he undertook interesting and valua- 
ble researches into Celtic philology. His closing 
years were — through ill-health and age — a period of 
financial reverses, but the gloom was brightened by 
the presence of the pet child of his adoption. He 
worked on till the last, being engaged during the 
very week of his death in writing two articles, one 
for Blackwood's Magaiine, the other for The Nine- 
teenth Century. 

When his adopted daughter's somewhat brief 
school-days were over, she returned home well 
fitted to assist Dr. Mackay in his literary work. 
She was already on familiar terms with his study 
and his books. A good many of the baby. days 
were spent in the Doctor's study, and as an infant 
there were evidences that the mind of the little one 
was of a thoughtful and inquiring bent. She was 
considered almost too inquiring by those gov- 
ernesses who guided her earliest lessons, religious 
subjects always having a peculiar attraction for her. 
" Little girls must be good and try to please God," 
one governess impressed upon her; and the child's 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 31 

wondering' reply was: "Why of course; every- 
body and everything must try to please God, else 
where would be the use of living at all ?" 

Babies — when they are good — always seem some- 
what akin to angels, and the ** Rosebud"— as 
Mackay called his adopted girl — always had a per- 
fect belief not only in their existence, but in their 
near presence. The poet especially encouraged her 
faith in them. The ** Rosebud" always believed 
angels were in her bedroom at night, and on her 
once saying that she could not see the angel (whom 
she fully expected) in her room, the Doctor an- 
swered: "Never mind, dearie! It is there, you 
may be sure; and if you will behave just as if you 
saw it, you will certainly see it some day." 

Passed chiefly in the country and abroad, the first 
ten years of Marie Corelli's life went by pleasantly 
enough. Some hours daily were devoted to les- 
sons; others to play, and most of these amongst 
the flowers that she has always loved. And as 
much time was spent, not over lesson books, but 
over those works of a nature to be understood by 
a child which she found in the Doctor's library, and 
listening to stories, witty and wise, of Dr. Mackay's 
former friends and literary associates. Many, in- 
deed, had been these friends— Dickens and Thack- 
eray, Sir Edwin Landseer and Douglas Jerrold, to 



32 Marie Corelli 

name but a few. He had known many men of 
light and leading in his day, and to the little girl 
who played in his study he delighted to recount 
reminiscences of them. Through him she learned 
to love some of his old friends as if she had known 
them personally. 

Those were days that had much to do with the 
moulding of the character of the future novelist. 
There were no child playmates for little Marie, and 
the naturally studious bent of her mind was greatly 
affected by her environment. It gave her thought 
and wisdom beyond her years. This absence of 
child companions may or may not be advantageous; 
it all depends upon the circumstances. Victoria, 
who became Queen of England, had no child com- 
panions, and often in later years dwelt upon the 
fact with regret. Yet who would say they would 
have had any alteration in the character and doings 
of our late sovereign ? The loss to a child of that 
child-companionship which most enjoy may be 
very great; but there are compensations. 

Those who have studied the productions of 
Marie Corelli with understanding of the spirit which 
has animated her work would not, we think, wish 
that anything should have been different. As to 
the reading of her early years, it was quite excep- 
tional, as reading with children goes. She not only 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 33 

heard of the sayings and doings of Dickens, Thack- 
eray, Jerrold, and such, but had read many of their 
works before she was ten ; had not only read, but 
understood a great deal of them, having a loving 
tutor to make matters easy for her. She took great 
interest in histories of times and peoples, and 
learned to sympathize with the workers. Dr. 
Mackay's poems were all familiar to her. So were 
the works of Shakespeare and Scott and Keats. 
Poetry was one of her chief delights, while instru- 
mental music appealed to her as did the rhythm of 
song. The Bible, and especially the New Testa- 
ment, was always her greatest friend in the world 
of books. And so, when it was deemed well to 
send her away for more systematic educational 
training than that of the sweet home-life, it was a 
little maiden of unusual knowledge who went to a 
convent in France to receive further tuition. 

Peculiarly did the convent school-life commend 
itself to the studious mind of the child. The 
quietude and peacefulness of this holy retreat ap- 
pealed very greatly to her contemplative and imagi- 
native mind. The Doctor had instilled into her a 
strict regard for truth and sincerity, a reverence for 
sacred things, and a desire to follow in spirit and in 
truth the teachings of Christ. Meditating on New 
Testament matters, she at one time had a curious 



34 Marie Core Hi 

idea of founding some new kind of religious order 
of Christian workers, but this never subsequently 
took definite shape. 

A great happiness which the convent provided 
was a grand organ in the chapel. At this, when 
schoolfellows were indulging in croquet, tennis, 
and other games, the young girl would sit, some- 
times for hours at a time, playing religious songs 
and improvising harmonies. In several of the 
novels that were written in after years there are 
references to the organ and its soothing influences. 
Miss Corelli possesses remarkable musical talents, 
this power of improvisation amongst them, and 
her intimate friends to-day often have the pleasure 
of listening to her performances. Dr. Mackay had 
recognized that her musical ability was of excep- 
tional order, and, as his financial losses had been 
such that he was aware he would not be able to 
provide for his adopted daughter, he determined 
that she should endeavor to win her way in the 
musical profession. 

With this object in view the convent training was 
specially devoted to the development of her music, 
and with such thorough care were her studies con- 
ducted, that she still retains the skill then acquired 
upon organ, piano, and mandolin, and her voice is 
both sweet and powerful. 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 35 

Both as instrumentalist and vocalist Miss Corelli 
could have been sure of a large measure of success. 
Principally she loves the old English and Scotch 
ballads; listening to her as she sings such songs to 
her own accompaniment in her dainty drawing- 
room at Mason Croft, it is pleasant to observe how 
very feminine she is, how paramount is the Woman 
in her nature. 

That the young girl was ambitious goes without 
saying. During her holidays from school, she 
wrote the score of an opera, which was called 
Ginevra Da Siena. About the same time she 
produced numerous verses and short poems 
which brought high praise from that competent 
judge, Dr. Mackay. Moreover, she wrote in 
her very young days three sonnets on Shake- 
spearean plays, these being approved, praised, 
and published by Mr. Clement Scott in The 
Theatre. 

It soon appeared, however, that the little convent 
maid had done too much for her strength. Athletic 
exercises would have been better in those early days 
than the excess of brain-work to which she set her- 
self, absolutely from inclination and of her own free 
will. Under the great strain her health broke down, 
and she was compelled to return from school for a 
spell of rest, carrying with her, however, impressions 



36 Marie Corelli 

of the convent life which had a great effect upon her 
subsequent thoughts and aims. 

Her health being restored, and Dr. Mackay grow- 
ing more feeble, he was glad to keep her at home 
with him. Musical studies were persistently pur- 
sued. Half the day she would spend with the 
Doctor, reading, playing, or singing to him, con- 
versing with him, and cheering him in the illness that 
was upon him. The other half of the day was 
passed at her desk, and literature finally claimed all 
her working hours. The first story she wrote was 
returned to her. It seemed she was to traverse no 
path of roses to fame and fortune. Though occu- 
pied with minor literary matters she was turning 
over in her mind the outlines of a singular story 
suggested by the thoughts or fancies or dreams of 
that period when her health broke down, and 
during which, whilst health was being restored, 
there was little to do save keep quiet and meditate. 
The result was the formation of the plot of "A 
Romance of Two Worlds." These early years, by 
the way, up to 1885, were spent in a country cot- 
tage; then Dr. Mackay removed to London, and 
took a house in Kensington. " A Romance of Two 
Worlds" was published in 1886. 

Miss Corelli's sole companion after her convent 
school-life, with the exception of Dr. Charles 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 37 

Mackay, was her devoted friend, Miss Bertha 
Vyver, daughter of the Countess Vyver, a not un- 
important personage at the court of Napoleon III. 
The friendship between Miss Vyver and Miss 
Corelli has always been of the closest description. 
Since Dr. Charles Mackay welcomed Miss Vyver 
as his "second daughter," they have never been 
separated. In all her daily life, not least the nurs- 
ing of Dr. Mackay through his long illness, Miss 
Vyver has been by her side, helping her in home 
difficulties and trials as help can only be given by 
one with whom there is perfect sympathy. Miss 
Vyver has seen every detail of all the work the 
novelist has done, and to-day the friendship be- 
tween the two is closer and dearer than ever for the 
years that have passed, and the sorrows and joys 
that have been borne in company. 

George Eric Mackay, Dr. Mackay's second son, 
had been a wanderer on the Continent for many 
years. Born in London in 1835, ^"d educated 
chiefly at the Academy of Inverness, he had first 
been put into a business house. Trade was, how- 
ever, entirely opposed to his tastes and tempera- 
ment, and consequently he left the commercial 
establishment and began to think of another career. 
With such a father there was naturally a desire that 
the son should enter the field of literature. George 



38 Marie Corelli 

Eric, however, did not seem, at first, disposed to do 
this. He preferred the stage, and made efforts to 
secure a footing on it. He was tried by Charles 
Kean, and there were evidences of talent. Eric did, 
indeed, possess very considerable powers of por- 
traying character. The stage, however, was in 
those days, as it probably will be for all time, a 
thankless profession for the embryo actor, and Eric 
found the work too severe. The plodding labors 
of the beginner by no means suited one who was 
not fitted by nature for drudgery or slow progress. 

He had a good voice, and the next profession to 
which he turned his attention was operatic singing. 
For this again he had a not unpromising equipment, 
and his father determined to send him to Italy for 
the purpose of studying music there under good 
masters. No progress, however, was made with 
the musical studies, though the people and the con- 
ditions of existence in Italy appealed strongly to 
him, and he made Italy his home for many 
years. 

During the first portion of his sojourn abroad he 
received a liberal allowance from his father, and 
was at other times indebted to him for considerable 
financial help. He was, like the Doctor, a master 
of European languages, and this knowledge enabled 
him to earn a precarious livelihood as a teacher of 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 39 

French and English. The income thus derived was 
added to by correspondence for newspapers. 

Dr. Mackay gave his son many valuable intro- 
ductions, and he thus became acquainted with Sir 
Edward Bulwer Lytton (to whom he subsequently 
dedicated a book of poems); Sir Richard Burton; 
and Sir William Perry, the British Consul at Venice. 
All three became interested in him, and were fre- 
quently of assistance to him. 

He found it impossible, however, to settle down. 
He stayed nowhere very long. Rome and Venice 
saw more of him than other cities. He wrote 
verses, and some were, under the title of "Songs 
of Love and Death," collected in a volume and 
published by Messrs. Chapman & Hall in 1864. 
This was the volume which was dedicated to Sir 
E. Bulwer Lytton. He was not encouraged by the 
financial results of his work. Poetry, in fact, does 
not pay, and the public at the time gave his verses 
but a chilly greeting. His poetic ardor somewhat 
damped by this treatment, he left the lyrical muse 
alone for a time and commenced the publication in 
Rome of The Roman Times. This journal, unfor- 
tunately, like most newspaper enterprises that do 
not "go," was a costly failure. II Poliglotta, an- 
other journalistic venture, was published in Venice. 
It was a disastrous undertaking, absorbing all the 



40 Marie Corelli 

money which its editor had been able to raise, and 
leaving a heavy deficit. 

The failure was the more serious because of 
other debts — personal, and in connection with two 
volumes which he had published. One, a collection 
of his newspaper articles, was called "Days and 
Nights in Italy"; the other, "Lord Byron at the 
Armenian Convent," this being practically a handy 
guide-book to Venice. Nothing paid. The result 
was that he left Italy, after living there for twenty 
years, poorer than he went, which literally meant 
that he came back penniless. Broken financially, 
and in spirit, he returned to his father. 

To the young girl Marie, whose life had hitherto 
been so exceptionally quiet, there was almost a 
romantic interest in this sudden arrival of the 
middle-aged man who, she was informed, was her 
stepbrother, and she made much of him. More- 
over, Dr. Mackay was seriously disappointed at the 
failure of his son to make a career, and at his posi- 
tion — without income or apparent hope of earning 
one; and it was evident to Marie that it would 
afford her stepfather the keenest pleasure if George 
Eric should, after all, achieve success. 

The circumstances of her untiring efforts to bring 
him into notice are known only to a few, though 
misunderstood by many. 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 41 

In the first place, her principal aim was to relieve 
her stepfather from the burden of his son s main- 
tenance. In the second, she sought to rouse and 
inspire that son to obtain for himself a high position 
in literature. She spared no pains to attain these 
two objects, and all her first small earnings went in 
assisting him. She was at this time still continuing 
her musical studies, and very often went to hear 
Sarasate. The large sums of money earned by this 
eminent artist first suggested an idea to George 
Eric of learning the violin, and, though late in life 
to begin, he resolved to study the instrument. His 
musical training in Italy must have been very inef- 
fectual, as he had to learn his notes. He wished, 
however, for a good instrument, and his stepsister 
secured a •'Guarnerius" model from Chappell, 
which she paid for by instalments and presented to 
him. It may be added that he never made anything 
of it, but it was useful in providing the title of his 
best-known work. 

He had produced a volume, "Pygmalion in Cy- 
prus," published at the expense of friends, but the 
result was again disheartening. Some plays that he 
wrote were rejected by the managers to whom they 
were sent. About the same time Miss Corelli had 
returned to her the first story she had written. The 
editor of the magazine to whom it had been sub- 



42 



Marie Corelli 



mitted was of opinion that the writing of novels 
was not her forte. She took the opinion seriously, 
and decided to write no more, but to complete her 
musical training and look to the concert platform as 
the means of livelihood. She had already com- 
posed quite a large number of poems, some of 
which were subsequently torn up, some re- 
main unpublished, and some have found a place 
in her books. A strong poetical tendency is 
evident throughout all her books, and is particularly 
prominent in ** Ardath," a great portion of which is 
almost as much poetry as prose. Two letters, 
written by Eric Mackay at this time, and now pre- 
served in Miss Corelli's autograph album, are par- 
ticularly interesting. One ran : 

*'l am happier than 1 have been since boyhood, 
for I have a little sister again, and that little sister — 
the best and brightest in the world — does everything 
for me. But how far short of your ambition for 
me must 1 fall! — for you have already done so much 
in your short life — you, a child, and 1, alas! a man 
growing old." 

And in another he said: 

" 1 must thank you for sending me the little Keats 
volume. Curiously enough, I never read his poems 
at all before. Browning I can't stand, but if you 
like him I must read him. You seem to live in an 



Marie Corel li's Childhood 43 

atmosphere of poetry, but pray be careful and do 
not study too hard." 

"Love-Letters of a Violinist "at last made Eric 
Mackay famous. The book was published in 1883, 
and it was Marie Corelli who arranged for its pro- 
duction. She had fully convinced herself of the 
beauty of the poems, and she determined that they 
should be published as became what she regarded 
as their great value. She corrected the proofs of 
the poems, selected the binding, and saw to every 
detail of the book. The poems were published 
anonymously, and at once became the talk not only 
of England, but of America. There was much 
speculation as to the authorship. Eric Mackay en- 
tered fully into the humor of the thing, and made 
numerous suggestions to his acquaintances as to the 
probable writer, even putting forth the hint that the 
late Duke of Edinburgh, an able violinist, might 
have written them. He must have chuckled hugely 
at the discussions about this anonymous author; and 
the whole story was often talked about among his 
friends. Miss Corelli wrote an introductory notice 
to a subsequent edition of the ** Love-Letters," the 
introductory note and the initials **G. D." — which 
she had adopted — causing almost as much discus- 
sion as the publication of the ''Love-Letters" them- 
selves. "G. D." was meant by her to signify 



44 Marie Corelli 

Gratia Dei. Probably few books have ever emerged 
from the press in more attractive form. It was a 
quaint, vellum-bound, antique-looking volume tied 
up on all sides with strings of golden silk ribbon, 
and illustrated throughout with fanciful wood-cuts. 

But the poems are beautiful and deserving of the 
fame they attained. It is curious how very differ- 
ent in quality they are to the author's earlier pub- 
lished works, issued in 1864, 1871, and 1880. Each 
"Love-Letter" (and there are twelve of them) is 
in twenty stanzas — each stanza contains six lines. 
Antonio Gallenga of The Times declared the poems 
to be as regular and symmetrical as Dante's "Com- 
edy," with as stately and solemn, ay, and as arduous 
a measure! . . . "There are marvelous pow- 
ers in this poet-violinist. Petrarch himself has not 
so many changes for his conjugation of the verb * to 
love.' " The latter is what may be called, to quote 
a phrase recently used in a well-known newspaper, 
a "quotation from an hitherto unpublished review," 
because the late Antonio Gallenga wrote a review 
of the " Love-Letters " at the request of Miss Corelli 
(whom he had known since her childhood) ; but The 
Times refused it, and he sent Miss Corelli the origi- 
nal manuscript, from which she quoted excerpts in 
her " Introduction " to the " Love-Letters." 

A lengthy review entitled "A New Love-Poet" 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 45 

appeared in London Society under the name of " W. 
Stanislas Leslie," no other than Marie Corelli herself. 
For the rest, all the critics fell foul of the book and 
"slated" the author unmercifully. 

Some of the reviewers, notwithstanding the mys- 
tery they made of it, knew all about the authorship. 
Miss Corelli gave the news to the world in an anon- 
ymous letter to the New York Independent, which 
was the first journal to reveal the identity of the 
writer of the poems. It published a brief statement 
to the effect that the author was simply a gentleman 
of good position, the descendant of a distinguished 
and very ancient family, George Eric Mackay. 
. . . "He will undoubtedly," it was added, 
"be numbered with the choice few whose names 
are destined to live by the side of poets such as 
Keats, whom, as far as careful work, delicate feel- 
ing, and fiery tenderness go, Eric Mackay may be 
said to resemble." 

Swinburne, about whom Marie Corelli was to 
write so strongly in "The Sorrows of Satan," the 
poet-violinist thus addressed : 

" Thou art a bee, a bright, a golden thing 

With too much honey ; and the taste thereof 
Is sometimes rough, and somewhat of a sting 
Dwells in the music that we hear thee sing." 

Again, there are such pretty fancies as : 



46 Marie Corelli 



«« Phoebus loosens all his golden hair 
Right down the sky — and daisies turn and stare 
At things we see not with our human wit," 



and 



«' A tuneful noise 
Broke from the copse where late a breeze was slain, 
And nightingales in ecstasy of pain 
Did break their hearts with singing the old joys." 

There are scores of passages like these. The 
great gifts displayed in the volume certainly afforded 
some justification a few years afterwards for the 
strenuous efforts which Marie Corelli made to get 
her stepbrother made Poet Laureate. 

The "Love-Letters of a Violinist," great as was 
their success as poems, did not prove lucrative. 
Miss Corelli had provided for the first issue ; 
afterwards Mr. Eric Mackay made a free gift of 
the book to the publishers of the Canterbury 
Poets series. The sales have since been, con- 
siderable, but the arrangement made by Mr. 
Mackay was one which, of course, did not benefit 
him financially. 

Shortly after the publication of **The Love- 
Letters of a Violinist," there were serious develop- 
ments in Dr. Charles Mackay's illness. He was 
stricken down with paralysis, and the pinch of 
poverty was being felt, for there was very little 



Marie Corelli's Childhood 47 

coming into the home. Marie Corelli had now 
a great responsibility upon her young shoulders. 
The completion of her musical training it was im- 
possible to afford. What should she do ? She deter- 
mined to try to write a novel. More articles and 
essays were contributed anonymously to news- 
papers and magazines; and, meanwhile, the plan 
of '*A Romance of Two Worlds" had been pre- 
pared and the book was being written. Finally 
it was submitted to and accepted by a great 
publisher, who came to see Miss Corelli, and stared 
with amazement to find that the young lady to 
whom he was introduced as the author was a per- 
sonal friend of his. Yet so it was, and the story 
of the publication and reception of the book is in- 
structive. 



CHAPTER III 

'*A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS" 

In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred an author's 
first long manuscript is a poor and immature thing, 
which, owing to its inflammatory nature, were 
best devoted to fire-lighting purposes. But the 
aspiring scribbler, not being — from this point of 
view, at any rate — a utilitarian in his views, would 
as lief lose his right hand as behold his precious 
pages being put to the base wooing of wood and 
coals. Instead, he spends several pounds on 
having it typewritten, and then sends it forth upon 
its travels round the publishing houses. It comes 
back to him with exasperating regularity, until 
the author, at last realizing that his book does not 
appeal to publishers' readers quite as vividly as it 
does to its creator, either (if he be wise) consigns 
it to the dust-bin, or (if he be unwise) pays one 
of the shark publishing firms to bring it out. Did 
he know that the wily fellows to whom he entrusts 
his work simply print enough copies for review 
purposes and a few more to put on their shelves, 
charging him the while for a whole edition, he 

48 



" A Romance of Two Worlds " 49 

would not 'part with his good money so readily! 
As it is, he has the satisfaction of seeing his story 
between covers, of sending it to his friends, of 
beholding his name in the "Books Received" 
corner of the daily papers, of knowing for certain 
that a copy, wherever else it may not be found, will 
always be supplied to students of fiction at the 
British Museum; and that is all. 

It is needless to say this was not the course of 
procedure adopted by Miss Marie Corelli. She 
wrote voluminously in her school-days, and was as 
successful as most young girls are when they are 
serving their literary apprenticeship. She scribbled 
poetry, and was no doubt happy— as every youth- 
ful scribe should be— when she was rewarded for 
her labors by the mere honor of print. 

But the time came — as come it always does to 
those who have the real gift of literary creativeness 
—whenthe young artist set a large canvas upon 
her easel and sturdily went about the task of 
filling it. 

Of ideas, at such an age, there is an abundant 
flow. Meals are irksome and many hours are 
stolen from slumber; it is late to bed and early to 
rise; it is a hatred of social duties, and a period 
when everything else but the dream of fame is 
forgotten. Although we may take the foregoing 



50 Marie Corelli 

to be fairly applicable to the average girl-author, 
Miss Corelli denies that the writing of " A Romance 
of Two Worlds " ever caused her to become 
*' aesthetically cadaverous." Her methodical habits 
may account for the fact that, in spite of much 
desk toil and hard thinking, she has always 
managed to keep a well-balanced mind in corpora 
sano. 

"\ write every day from ten in the morning till 
two in the afternoon, alone and undisturbed. 
. . . I generally scribble off the first rough 
draft of a story very rapidly in pencil; then I copy 
it out in pen and ink, chapter by chapter, with 
fastidious care, not only because I like a neat 
manuscript, but because I think everything that is 
worth doing at all is worth doing well. ... I 
find, too, that in the gradual process of copying by 
hand, the original draft, like a painter's first sketch, 
gets improved and enlarged." 

The ** Romance," then, according to this salu- 
brious programme, entered quietly into a state of 
being. Miss Corelli was doubtful whether it would 
ever find a publisher: her first notion was to offer 
it to Arrowsmith, as a railway-stall novelette. 
Possibly the success of ''Called Back" suggested 
the Bristol publisher, the title she first fixed upon, 
** Lifted Up," being eminently suggestive of a 



"A Romance of Two Worlds" 51 

shilling series. However, the manuscript never 
went westwards— a matter which good Mr. Arrow- 
smith has excellent cause to regret— for, in the 
interim, as a kind of test of its merit or demerit. 
Miss Corelli sent it to Bentley's. The "readers" 
attached to that house advised its summary rejec- 
tion. Moved by curiosity to inspect a work which 
his several advisers took the trouble to condemn in 
such singularly adverse terms, Mr. George Bentley 
decided to read the manuscript himself, and the 
consequence of his unprejudiced and impartial in- 
spection was approval and acceptance. 

Letters were exchanged, terms proposed and 
agreed upon. *M am glad that all is arranged," 
wrote Mr. Bentley; ** nothing now remains but to 
try to make a success of your first venture. The 
work has the merit of originality, and its style 
writing will, I think, commend it." 

A later letter from him says: *'I expect our 
rather 'thick' public will be slow in appreciating 
the * Romance,' but if it once takes, it may go ofif 
well." 

These extracts are interesting as showing the 
view taken by a veteran publisher — one who had 
been dealing with books and authors since early 
manhood — of a work by an absolutely unknown 
writer. His opinion of Miss Corelli's powers is 



52 Marie Corelli 

represented by a further letter dispatched to her in 
February, 1886: "I shall be perfectly ready to give 
full consideration to anything which proceeds from 
your pen, all the more readily, too, because 1 see 
you love wholesome thought, and will not lend 
yourself to corrupt and debase the English mind. 
. . . I have no greater pleasure than to bring to 
light a bright writer like yourself. After all, the 
Brightness must be in the author, and so the sole 
praise is to her." 

After his first visit to Miss Corelli, in July of that 
year, Mr. Bentley wrote as follows: " The afternoon 
remains with me as a pleasant memory. I am so 
glad to have seen you. 1 little expected to see so 
young a person as the authoress of works involv- 
ing in their creation faculties which at your age are 
mostly not sufficiently developed for such works." 

Miss Corelli was allowed to retain her copyright, 
a fact which, though regarded by her as of slight 
import at the time, has since proved of some pecu- 
niary advantage, seeing that the '* Romance" is now 
in its twentieth edition. 

The wise old publisher saw nothing attractive, 
explanatory, or salable in such a name as ** Lifted 
Up," so a new title was asked for. Scott once said 
there was nothing in a name, and certainly it did 
not matter what such a magician as he was, called a 



" A Romance of Two Worlds " 53 

book, any more than it matters what name any 
firmly established author fixes upon; but a new 
writer can seldom afford to despise the gentle art of 
alliteration or the appellation which appeals to the 
eye, ear, and imagination. 

Both Dr. Charles Mackay and his son George 
Eric were appealed to by the young beginner in 
that literary career to which they were both accus- 
tomed. Both demanded a reading of the manu- 
script that they might be guided by its contents as 
to the title. But Marie refused to show her manu- 
script to any one. She told her stepfather that he 
would only 'Maugh at her silly fancies." She 
would not let George Eric read it, because she 
wanted to surprise him by quoting some of his 
poetry in the book from the **Love-Letters of a 
Violinist," which title she, by-the-bye, had sug- 
gested. She said her story was ** about this world 
and the next," whereupon Dr. Mackay, who hap- 
pened to be reading Lewis Morris's "Songs of Two 
Worlds" at the time, suggested "A Romance of 
Two Worlds." 

So, as "A Romance of Two Worlds," the 
book appeared. Up to this time Miss Corelli had 
naturally had no experience with reviewers. She 
had heard of them, of course, being a member of a 
literary household, and she had every reason to 



54 Marie Corelli 

suppose that they would, in the ordinary course of 
events, write criticisms upon the ** Romance." In 
this expectation, however, she was doomed to dis- 
appointment. It received only four reviews, all 
brief and distinctly unfavorable. It may not be un- 
interesting, at this distance of time, to quote the 
criticism which appeared in a leading journal, as it 
is a very fair sample of the rest: 

"Miss Corelli would have been better advised 
had she embodied her ridiculous ideas in a six- 
penny pamphlet. The names of Heliobas and 
Zara are alone sufficient indications of the dulness 
of this book." 

Less could hardly have been said. Had the paper 
been a provincial weekly, and the writer a junior 
reporter to whom the book had been flung with a 
curt editorial order to "write a par about that," the 
review could not have been more innocent of any 
attempt at criticism. It is highly apparent that the 
critic in question was not employed on the elbow- 
jogging terms known as "on space." 

As for the names, it would have been equally 
absurd to call a Chaldaean — descended directly from 
one of the " wise men of the East " — and his sister, 
by the Anglo-Saxon Jack and Jill; or, indeed, to 
apply to them European nomenclature of any de- 
scription. The " Romance," to quote its writer's 



"A Romance of Two Worlds" 55 

own description, was meant to be "the simply- 
worded narration of a singular psychical experi- 
ence, and included certain theories on religion 
which I, personally speaking, accept and believe." 

What name, then, would this reviewer have 
chosen for the electric healer who is the principal 
male character in the work ? Although he lived in 
Paris, it would hardly have been fair to christen 
him Alphonse, a name, by the way, strongly sug- 
gestive of a French valet. Clearly the critic here 
was unreasonable as well as idle. 

With regard to the allegation as to dulness, we 
imagine that Miss Corelli's most bitter detractors 
have never accused her of this most unpardonable 
crime in a maker of books. Her imagination may 
take flights exasperating in their audacity to the stay- 
at-home mind of Wellington Street; she may occa- 
sionally state her opinions a thought too didactically 
for people who are themselves opinionated; when 
she cries shame on vice and humbug, her pen may 
coin denunciations somewhat too hot-and-strong 
for the easy-going and the worldly; but, whatever 
she is, or whatever she does, she is never dull. 

In spite of the meagre allowances in the review 
way dealt out by the press to '* A Romance of Two 
Worlds," the book prospered exceedingly. It is 
absurd to deny the power of the press— either for 



56 Marie Corelli 

well or for ill— and Miss Corelli's career is a striking 
proof of the soundness of this statement. The 
public recognized the power of the new writer, and 
the " Romance " sold by thousands; the press went 
out of its way to condemn the works that followed 
it, and thereby advertised them. ** If you can't 
praise me, slate me," said an author once to an edi- 
tor; and he spoke sagely. Luke- warm reviews are 
the worst enemies a writer can have; favorable re- 
views impress a certain number of book-buyers, 
book-sellers, and librarians ; but bitingly hostile crit- 
icisms — tinged, if possible, with personal spite — are 
frequently quite as helpful as columns of eulogy. 

In the case of ** A Romance of Two Worlds," the 
press did not help one way or the other, however. 
The public discovered the book for themselves, and 
letters concerning its theories began to pour in from 
strangers in all parts of the United Kingdom. At 
the end of its first twelve months' run, Mr. Bentley 
brought it out in one volume in his "Favorite" 
series. Then it started off round the world at full 
gallop. 

It was, as Miss Corelli has already related in a 
very frank magazine article, a most undoubted suc- 
cess from the moment Bentleys laid it on their 
counter. It was ** pirated " in America; chosen out 
and liberally paid for by Baron Tauchnitz for the 



"A Romance of Two Worlds" 37 

popular and convenient little Tauchnitz series; and 
translated into various Continental languages. A 
gigantic amount of correspondence flowed in upon 
the authoress from India, Africa, Australia, and 
America; and it may be added that the more recent 
editions of the "Romance" have contained very 
representative excerpts from this epistolary bom- 
bardment. One man wrote saying that the book 
had saved him from committing suicide; another 
that it had called a halt on his previous driftings 
towards Agnosticism; others that the book had ex- 
ercised a comforting and generally beneficent influ- 
ence over them. To quote only one correspondent: 
*' I felt a better woman for the reading of it twice; 
and I know others, too, who are higher and better 
women for such noble thoughts and teaching." 

Now, if a book — however one may object to the 
writer's convictions or disagree with them — has an 
undoubted influence for good; if it drives from some 
minds the black spectre of Doubt, makes good men 
better, bad men less bad, and all men think, then 
has not that book won a brave excuse for its exist- 
ence ? may it not be considered, as a work of art, 
infinitely the superior of a picture or a play or an- 
other book that leaves beholders or readers exactly 
where it found them ? 

Many people condemn Marie Corelli without 



58 Marie Corelli 

reading her, on the old Woolly West principle of 
** First hang, then try! " 

She has a big public, but it would be a thousand 
times bigger if only scoffers and doubters would 
really read these books by the authoress whom 
they hang without trial. Let them take a course of 
Marie Corelli during the long winter evenings, pass- 
ing on from book to book— from the " Romance" 
to ** Vendetta," thence to "Thelma," "Ardath," 
" Wormwood," " The Soul of Lilith," and so on— 
in the order in which they were written. For the 
idle and listless, for the frivolous, for the irreligious, 
for the purse-proud, for the down-hearted and dis- 
tressed, she will prove a veritable "cure," for she 
is at once a moralist and a tonic. And whereas she 
is a literary sermon in herself to those who listen to 
other preachers without profit, so will she prove a 
profitable and restorative change of air to the busy, 
the honestly prosperous, the "godly, righteous, 
and sober" of her students. She is for all, and, 
where funds are scarce and shillings consequently 
precious. Free Libraries bring her within reach of 
everybody. 

At a time when our leading dramatists and novel- 
ists drag their art in the mud for the sake of the 
lucre that may be found down there in plenty, it is 
refreshing and hope-inspiring to find that the writer 



" A Romance of Two Worlds " 59 

with the largest public in the world, whose work 
has penetrated to every country and is thus not re- 
stricted to Anglo-Saxondom any more than a new 
type of rifle is, has ranged herself on the side of 
Right! Thus, owing to the wide-spread interest in 
her work, she is enabled to preach the gospel of her 
beliefs in all corners of the globe;— this, too, in spite 
of the fact that she is comparatively a newcomer 
in literature. 

"My appeal for a hearing," wrote Miss Corelli, 
when describing, in the pages of the Idler, the ap- 
pearance of her first book, " was first made to the 
great public, and the public responded; moreover, 
they do still respond with so much heartiness and 
good-will, that I should be the most ungrateful scrib- 
bler that ever scribbled if 1 did not " (despite press 
" drubbings " and the amusing total ignoring of my 
very existence by certain cliquey literary maga- 
zines) "take up my courage in both hands, as the 
French say, and march steadily onward to such 
generous cheering and encouragement. I am told 
by an eminent literary authority that critics are 

* down upon me ' because 1 write about the super- 
natural. Neither 'Vendetta,' nor * Thelma,' nor 

* Wormwood ' is supernatural. But, says the emi- 
nent literary authority, why write at all, at any 
time, about the supernatural ? Why ? Because I 



6o Marie Corelli 

feel the existence of the supernatural, and, feeling 
it, 1 must speak of it. 1 understand that the religion 
we profess to follow emanates from the superna- 
tural. And I presume that churches exist for the 
solemn worship of the supernatural. Wherefore, 
if the supernatural be thus universally acknowl- 
edged as a guide for thought and morals, I fail to 
see why I, and as many others as choose to do so, 
should not write on the subject. . . . But I dis- 
tinctly wish it to be understood that I am neither a 
* Spiritualist ' nor a ' Theosophist ' . . . I have 
no other supernatural belief than that which is 
taught by the Founder of our Faith. . . ." 

The plot of the story with which Miss Corelli 
won her spurs is simple in the extreme. The plot 
indeed, is a secondary matter, the main strength of 
the book being the Physical Electricity utilized by 
Heliobas — the medicine man of Chaldaean descent 
who has neither diploma nor license— in his cure of 
the young improvisatrice whose nerves have been 
shattered by over-devotion to musical study and 
whose vitality has been reduced to an alarmingly 
low ebb by her inability to recuperate, even in the 
soothing climate of the Riviera. An artist who has 
been saved from self-destruction and restored to 
absolute health by Heliobas, advises her to seek out 
this "Dr. Casimir" (as Heliobas is called in Paris) 



"A Romance of Two Worlds" 6l 

and put herself in his hands. This she does, with 
astounding results; for, from a miserable, woe-be- 
gone creature, all "palpitations and headaches and 
stupors," Casimir's potions and electrical remedies 
change her into an absolutely healthy woman, 
"plump and pink as a peach." In Casimir's house 
lives the physician's sister, Zara, who, by means of 
the same medical and electrical properties, retains, 
at thirty-eight, the complexion and supple health of 
a girl of seventeen, being ever "as fresh and lovely 
as a summer morning." During her stay with him, 
Heliobas expounds his "Electric Creed" to the 
young musician, and by her own wish, and by 
means of his extraordinary hypnotic powers — com- 
bined with a fluid preparation which he causes her 
to take — throws her into a trance, in the course of 
which "strange departure," her soul is temporarily 
separated from her body and floats from the earth 
to other spheres. Guided by the spirit Azul, it 
wanders to the "Centre of the Universe," and, 
after being permitted to gaze upon the wonders 
and glories of the supernatural, returns to earth and 
once more takes its place in the work-a-day body 
from which it had been temporarily released. After 
Casimir has afforded the girl further explanations of. 
his theories, she is admitted to the small circle of 
adherents to the Electric Creed. As a result of Casi- 



62 Marie Corelli 

mir's treatment she eventually finds herself not only 
in possession of complete health, but also equally 
perfected in her work; so much so, indeed, that 
while her improved looks are a delight to her 
friends, her playing fills them with wonder and 
delight. 

The story ends pathetically. Just as the heroine 
is about to go forth into the world again, armed 
with new bodily vigor and tenfold her previous 
talent, her friend, the ever-youthful Zara, is killed 
by a flash of lightning. After attending the burial 
of his sister in Pere-la-Chaise, Heliobas takes leave 
of his patient, and proceeds to Egypt to accustom 
himself to the solitude to which his sister's death 
has condemned him. The reader is given to under- 
stand, however, that Heliobas and the young musi- 
cian meet again later on under more cheerful 
conditions. 

Such is a mere outline of this popular story, 
which is told throughout with admirable restraint 
and dignity, the language being moderate, and the 
arguments pithily expressed. The half-dozen minor 
characters are touched in with all the skill of an ex- 
perienced novelist; and yet, when Miss Corelli set 
to work on this ** Romance," she was younger than 
her heroine is represented to be. 

The actual penmanship occasioned by the writing 



" A Romance of Two Worlds " 63 

of the book must have been as nothing compared 
with the very arduous thought and study connected 
with the mental generation of the views held by 
Heliobas and his fellow-behevers. That the the- 
ories here exploited are well worth the considera- 
tion of all thoughtful persons, is proved by the 
intense interest the book has aroused in so many 
widely different and widely separated areas of 
civilization. 

It ought to be remembered, too, that, at the time 
the ** Romance" was published, the wonders of the 
X-rays had not been demonstrated, nor had wireless 
telegraphy become 2ifait accompli. Yet these were 
distinctly foretold in Marie Corelli's first book, as 
also the possible wonders yet to be proved in cer- 
tain new scientific theories of Sound and Color. It 
may instruct many to know that the theory of 
God's "Central World" with which all the universe 
moves, is a part of the authoress's own implicit 
belief in a future state of being. 



CHAPTER IV 

"vendetta" and "thelma" 

To Miss Corelli's host of admirers the story of 
"Vendetta" must be so familiar as to render a 
lengthy repetition of it unnecessary. "Vendetta" 
is, briefly, an exposition — in the form of a novel — 
on marital infidelity. 

In August, 1886, before the book was published, 
Mr. Bentley wrote: "May I tell you that I have 
been again looking into ' Vendetta,' and I venture 
to prophesy a success ? It is a powerful story, and 
a great stride forward on the first book ... it 
marches on to its awful finale with the grimness of 
a Greek play." 

That Mr. Bentley's prophecy was fulfilled is 
clearly indicated in a letter addressed by him to 
the authoress on October 226. of the same year: 
"I have very great pleasure in sending the en- 
closed, because I should have been mortified be- 
yond expression if the public had not responded to 
the marked power of your story. I believe you 
will come now steadily to the front, and I am very 
curious to read your new story." . . . "I shall 

64 



"Vendetta** and "Thelma" 6$ 

yield to na reader of your works," he again wrote, 
some time afterwards, " in a very high opinion of 
such scenes as the supper scene in ' Vendetta ' — as 
good as if Bulwer had written it. . . ." 

As the preface to " Vendetta " tells us, the book's 
chief incidents are founded on an actual and fatal 
blunder which was committed in Naples during the 
cholera visitation of 1884. "Nothing," says the 
authoress, "is more strange than truth; — nothing, 
at times, more terrible!" "Vendetta" is, then, 
practically, a true story, and certainly a very ter- 
rible one, of a Neapolitan nobleman who, being 
suddenly attacked by the scourge that was deci- 
mating this fair southern city, fell into a coma-like 
state so closely resembling death that he was 
hurried into a flimsy coffin, and deposited in his 
family vault as one deceased. Awaking from his 
deep swoon, the frenzied strength which would 
naturally come to a man finding himself in such an 
appalling situation, enabled him to break the frail 
boards of his narrow prison and escape from 
the vault. In the course of his wanderings, ere he 
found an outlet, he became acquainted with the 
fact that a band of brigands had utilized the mauso- 
leum as a store-house for their ill-gotten valuables. 
Having helped himself liberally to a portion of the 
plunder, the count — with hair turned white by his 



66 Marie Corelli 

harrowing experiences — retraced his steps to his 
house, only to find his most familiar friend con- 
soling his supposed widow for the loss of her hus- 
band in a manner which plainly gave evidence that 
the amours of the guilty couple were by no means 
of recent origin. Fired by a desire for revenge, and 
materially assisted by the bandits' secret hoard, the 
wronged nobleman, instead of making known his 
resurrection to his wife or anybody else, quitted 
Naples for a while. On his reappearance, six 
months later — well disguised by his white hair and 
a pair of smoked spectacles — he represented him- 
self to be an elderly and wealthy Italian noble, 
lately returned from a long but voluntary exile 
from his native land. Playing his role to perfec- 
tion, he soon succeeded in striking up a friendship 
■with his wife and her lover, his ire increasing as he 
found that they were both supremely indifferent to 
the memory of the man whom they imagined to be 
lying in the tomb of his ancestors. 

From this point the reader is compelled to pass 
rapidly from chapter to chapter in following out the 
injured husband's scheme of retaliation. With re- 
markable ingenuity the novelist depicts the manner 
in which the elderly nobleman, making free use of 
his abundant means, wormed himself into the con- 
fidence of his supposed widow as well as his 



"Vendetta" and "Thelma" 67 

traitorous' friend, and how he finally manoeuvred the 
latter into a duel which proved fatal to the doer of 
evil, and the former into a second marriage with 
himself. The curtain falls on a midnight adventure 
which proved fatal to the twice-wed wife. 

Miss Corelli appears to be thoroughly at home at 
Naples and among the Neapolitans. Her descrip- 
tions of the place and its people are admirable. 
She is well-versed in the art of painting a pretty 
picture, only, for the purposes of her plot, to 
destroy it with a great ugly dab across the smiling 
canvas. For the story opens as daintily as you 
please. Left, while still a youth, an ample fortune, 
Count Fabio Romani dwelt " in a miniature palace 
of white marble, situated on a wooded height over- 
looking the Bay of Naples." His pleasure grounds 
" were fringed with fragrant groves of orange and 
myrtle, where hundreds of full-voiced nightingales 
warbled their love-melodies to the golden moon." 

One can imagine that a young nobleman, who, 
though athletic and fond of the open air, was at the 
same time of a bookish and dreamy disposition, 
might, in such a pleasant retreat, have lingered on, 
a bachelor, until the discretion of the thirties would 
have befriended him in selecting a suitable mate. 
As it v/as, he saw but few women, and did not 
seek their society; but, when only a few years had 



68 Marie Corelli 

passed since his accession to the title, Fate cast 
in his way a face "of rose-tinted, childlike loveli- 
ness," it dazzled him. And "of course I married 
her." 

The fair canvas is not blurred over too soon, for 
following the marriage come several years of bliss 
undimmed by any cloud. The false friend's infi- 
delity remains unexposed and all is peace at the 
Villa Romani, the husband doting and believing 
himself to be doted upon, and a girl-babe, '* fair as 
one of the white anemones" which abounded in 
the woods surrounding the home, arriving to add 
pride to his love. Then the bolt falls. The cholera 
descends upon Naples, and with inexorable clutch 
claims victim after victim. 

Count Fabio, strolling down to the harbor one 
hot early morn, comes upon a lad stricken by the 
dread malady, and tends him. Within an hour he 
is himself convulsed with excruciating agony, and, 
whilst stretched on a bench in a humble restaurant, 
loses consciousness — to awake in his coffin. 

The horrors of such a restoration to life are 
depicted with extraordinary force, and with equal 
power is described the revulsion of feeling — the in- 
toxicating delight — experienced by the unfortunate 
man as, having regained his liberty, he stands 
rejoicing in the morning light and listens to the 



"Vendetta" and "Thelma" 69 

song of a boatman who is plying his oars on the 
smooth surface of the Bay. It was a happy fancy 
to set down the words of the sailor's carol — a 
gentle touch of human gladness ere the demon of 
vengeance whispers " Vendetta! " 

With astonishing cleverness the outraged hus- 
band maps out his plan of requital; his patience, 
his self-control, his constant alertness are described 
by himself — the story is told in the first person — 
with a deliberation that is almost diabolical in its 
cold-blooded intensity. 

Count Fabio scorns the idea of divorce or even an 
ordinary duel; his revenge must partake of nothing 
so prosaic as an action at law or ten minutes' rapier 
play. The matter does, indeed, come to a fight at 
last, but even here the injured nobleman gives his 
rival no chance; for, by removing his smoked spec- 
tacles, and disclosing his eyes for the first time to 
his one-time friend, he so unnerves his opponent 
that the latter fires wildly and merely grazes the 
count's shoulder, while Fabio's bullet finds a vital 
spot in the breast of the man who in a mere 
prosaic action for divorce would be referred to as 
the co-respondent. 

The count intended to kill his man, and, if his 
action were unsportsmanlike, he would doubtless 
have excused it on the ground that a vendetta wots 



70 Marie Corelli 

not of fair play, the idea being that one person has 
to bring about the death of another, by means fair 
or foul. The count found it necessary to his 
programme to make the duel appear a perfectly 
fair one; but as a matter of fact he never for a 
moment, owing to the precautions he took, had 
any misgivings as to which combatant would prove 
successful. 

In the event of this book being dramatized, the 
most thrilling situation will undoubtedly be pro- 
nounced the scene in the vault when Fabio, having 
remarried his wife, takes her to what he describes 
as the house where he keeps his treasure. When 
retreat is impossible the guilty woman discovers 
that he has lured her into the Romani mausoleum. 
In this noisome place of sepulture, amidst the bones 
of bygone Counts Romani, he discloses his identity, 
and points to his own coffm, broken asunder — a 
ghastly proof of the fact that his story is true. 
This is his night of triumph: here ends his revenge. 
** Trick for trick, comedy for comedy." His once 
familiar friend lies dead in a grave distant but a 
few yards from the vault in which, held fast in a 
ruthless snare, stands the wife whose love had 
strayed from her husband to the silent one yonder. 

Her first fright over, she shows resource even 
in these dire straits: she flees, but a locked gate 



"Vendetta" and "Thelma" 71 

bars her exit, and then she almost succeeds in 
stabbing her jailer. But nothing avails against 
his vigilance and iron strength, and her terrible 
surroundings turn her brain. Mad, she breaks 
into song— an old melody that at last, when too 
late, touches the heart of her husband, and he 
resolves to remove her from the charnel-house. 
But ere his new-found compassion can take action, 
while she is crooning over the bandits' hoard of 
jewels and decking her fair arms and neck with 
blazing gems, a sudden upheaval of Nature, not 
uncommon in those parts, shakes a ponderous 
stone out of the vault's roof and silences her song 
forever. 

The conclusion is fittingly brief. The once 
proud noble flees from Naples to the wild wood- 
lands of South America, where, with other set- 
ters, he ekes out a bare existence by the rough 
and unremitting toil inseparable from such sur- 
roundings. 

It is a relief to turn from these scenes of black 
and tempestuous passion to the gracious and win- 
ning personality of the Norwegian girl Thelma, 
whose name adorns the title-page of Miss Corelli's 
third novel. Here is no pestilence, for the opening 
chapters seem to breathe health and strength and 



72 Marie Corelli 

well-being, so redolent is the setting of all that is 
good and sweet. 

Miss Corelli's publisher was delighted with the 
manuscript. ** I have read all," wrote Mr. Bentley, 
on March 22d, 1887; ''what a nuisance space is! 
Here are three hundred miles separating us, and 1 
feel 1 could say what I have to say fifty times better 
by word of mouth than with this pen. . . . 
'Thelma,' as long as it is Norwegian, is a lovely 
dream — a romance full of poetry and color. 
' Thelma ' in London (I speak of the book) I cannot 
like. Of course the contrast, if not too deep, is 
effective. . . . How glad I was to get back t3 
Norway! The death of Olaf is very picturesquely 
painted, and little Britta is a charming little brick. ' 
In a previous letter, written when he had perused 
up to "page 1017," he said: "The character of 
Sigurd I consider a most beautiful creation. I 
hardly like to write what I really think of it, since 
either it is of the very highest order, or I have ro 
claim to critical ability of any sort. His whole 
career, his half-thought-out, half-uttered exclama- 
tions, the poetry of his thoughts, his passion so 
noble and so pitiful, the grand and highly dramatic 
close of his life, must give you a position which 
might be denied for * Vendetta ' as melodrama. 
Here there is nothing of that sort of life — here one 



"Vendetta" and "Thelma" 73 

is in the world which held Ariel. The Bonde I like 
much, and Lorimer. How necessary are some de- 
fects to a perfect liking! How we are in touch 
with poor Humanity through its weak side! This 
is, I suppose, why we do not sympathize as we 
ought with Christ. We feel sad for ourselves, and 
I can only truly pity those who need it, — the sort of 
cry in our hearts for the lost perfection. ... I 
could write several sheets about the novel, but I 
forbear. Don't write too fast. One who can write 
as well as you can, can write better, and in the long 
run will stand better on financial grounds." 

Here is advice from one possessing great expe- 
rience and much worldly wisdom. How helpful 
such sound and friendly counsel proved to the young 
novelist can readily be imagined. 

**The death of Sigurd, and that also of Olaf," 
wrote Mr. Bentley, on March 28th, 1887, "are far 
ahead in literary excellence and truth of anything in 
' She.' " . . . 'M confess I hate perfect people," 
he remarks in a subsequent letter, " and that is why, 
on the contrary, 1 love Thelma's father, have a 
strong sympathy with poor Sigurd as well as with 
many of the other characters in the story, and with 
that pretty little side picture of the plucky little 
waiting maid. I congratulate you on your next 
idea. It is in the Spirit of the age to pierce into the 



74 Marie Corelli 

mysteries of the unseen world, and I look forward 
to some interesting speculations from your enquiring 
mind." 

Various passages in other letters testify to Mr. 
Bentley's genuine appreciation of the book. "A 
clever lady, a great friend of mine whose opinion 1 
value, is charmed with 'Thelma.' This lady was a 
friend of Guizot, is a keen critic, and hates our mod- 
ern novels." And again: ** There is a rich imagery 
in 'Thelma,' which makes me believe you capable 
of becoming our first novelist, and there is a versa- 
tility which bodes well. . . . But God sends 
what is best for His children — may His best be for 
you! " 

"Thelma" is, in truth, for some considerable way 
through its numerous pages, a very pretty story: by 
many readers, as has been said, it is counted Miss 
Corelli's best achievement, albeit the authoress, in 
her heart of hearts, sets '* Ardath " above everything 
that has come from her pen. 

" Thelma " is quaintly unorthodox from its very 
start, for the two principal characters meet each 
other in the unconventional manner so dear to the 
heart of the romance-lover. A wave-lapped beach, 
at midnight, in the Land of the Midnight Sun — a 
handsome English aristocrat— a wonderful maid, 
who can claim direct descent from the old Vikings 



"Vendetta" and "Thelma" 75 

— some slight assistance required in the launching of 
a boat — are not these particulars sufficient to whet 
the appetite for what is bound to follow ? Favored 
by circumstances, this chance meeting ripens into a 
full-fledged friendship, whence to a wooing and a 
wedding is no far cry in the hands of a skilful nov- 
elist. 

The main theme of the story, of course, is English 
society as viewed by a girl who, though naturally 
refined and carefully educated, is, as regards the 
world and its ways, a child. Thelma, having be- 
come Lady Bruce-Errington, is gradually introduced 
to her husband's social equals, the result being as 
diverting as it is pathetic; for she has to go through 
a process of disillusionment whereby she learns with 
no little pain that an invitation to dinner is not neces- 
sarily a genuine expression of regard any more than 
a woman's kiss betokens the slightest affection or 
even liking for the woman upon whom it is be- 
stowed. 

Having imbibed all the accomplishments of the 
schoolroom, Thelma finds that the vanity of the 
world is a study which brings much bitterness of 
soul in the mastering. At first the young bride's 
astonishing frankness is taken for a supreme effort 
of art; then, when the truth dawns upon her asso- 
ciates, her success in society advances by leaps and 



76 Marie Corelli 

bounds, and she becomes what is called "the rage." 
Naturally her large nature soon sickens of such adu- 
lation, and induces a strange weariness which gives 
place to blank despair and unutterable misery when 
the machinations of certain evily-disposed persons 
lead her to believe that her husband has bestowed 
his affections upon a burlesque actress. So great is 
her selflessness that the poor girl makes excuses for 
her husband's (alleged) infidelity, and actually 
blames herself for not having proved sufficiently fas- 
cinating to keep him by her side. In bitter weather 
she quietly leaves London — bound for home. She 
crosses the rough seas in a cargo-boat, and arrives 
in Norway to find that her father is just dead. Her 
husband follows her by a perilous route, and, sur- 
viving the many dangers of the journey, gains her 
bedside in time to save her life and reason. And 
thereafter all is well. 

In a book containing six hundred and fifteen 
closely-printed pages, there must of necessity be a 
long roll of characters. It is often the case that 
characters, increasing in number as a book progresses 
in the writing, demand more and more space for 
their exploitation. Hence such voluminous works 
as " Thelma." In the first part of the novel the per- 
sons introduced are mainly of the bachelor kind, 
and, though useful in filling chairs at the literary re- 



"Vendetta" and "Thelma" 77 

past, are not absolutely necessary to the plot's work- 
ing. In Book II.— " The Land of Mockery "—a new 
set of people is introduced, society people mostly, 
and their servants. In Book III.— *' The Land of the 
Long Shadow "—the reader is taken to Norway in 
the winter, the novelist appropriately and strikingly 
making Nature's moods harmonize with those of 
her pen-and-ink creations. 

Miss Corelli lays on her colors with an unsparing 
brush— there is nothing half-and-half in her charac- 
terization. There are four ''principals" in this 
play. Lady Winsleigh, as opposed to Thelma, fills 
a rdle full of wrongful possibilities in that she por- 
trays "a woman scorned," than whom, as we are 
asked to believe, Hell hath no fury whose malevo- 
lence is of a worse description. Sir Francis Len- 
nox is, in wrong-doing, her masculine counterpart; 
and to balance him we have Thelma's husband, an 
excellent fellow who makes a fool of himself in 
a truly bewildering manner. His behavior in en- 
deavoring to bring about a reconciliation between 
his secretary and his secretary's wife— the actress 
already referred to — is the weak spot in the book. 

Much, however, that displeases the critical sense 
—which is fortunately not the predominating mental 
attribute of the novel-reading public— is obliterated 
by Thelma's womanliness and attractively gentle 



78 Marie Corelli 

nature. She is born to love and to suffer, and still 
to love, without murmur or reproach, **for better 
for worse, for richer for poorer," the husband of 
her heart's choice. She is a human flower, well 
pictured by the lines from Rossetti quoted by the 
authoress : 

" Sweet hands, sweet hair, sweet cheeks, sweet eyes, sweet mouth 
Each singly wooed and won ! " 



CHAPTER V 

"ARDATH"-— THE STORY OF A DEAD SELF— THE WON- 
DERFUL CITY OF AL-KYRIS — THE MISSION OF THE BOOK 

In no work produced by her busy pen has Miss 
Corelli given such range to her imagination, to her 
love of the beautiful and fantastic, as in " Ardath." 
This, her fourth book, abounds in wonderful ac- 
counts of a strange people in a strange place. 
When she sets a scene of barbaric splendor in the 
city of Al-Kyris, she reaches great descriptive 
heights; she tells, indeed,' a tale of beauty, of hor- 
ror, and of extraordinary amours, whose like can 
nowhere be found, look where you will. "Ar- 
dath " stands alone — a prose poem and a start- 
lingly vivid narrative in one. ** 1 have read it," 
wrote Mr. Bentley (referring to the work in manu- 
script form), ** with wonder that one small head 
could hold it all." 

That the authoress has a quick and appreciative 
eye for the picturesque, her most bitter detractor 
will not care to deny; she loves to write of birds 
and flowers, field and forest, golden sunshine and 
blue waters. She exhibits a passion for the bygone 

79 



8o Marie Corelli 

— in architecture and in man. In her interesting 
miscellany, "A Christmas Greeting," she reproves 
those who would take from the charming old- 
worldliness of Shakespeare's birthplace by erecting 
in Stratford-on-Avon ugly villas and shops sug- 
gestive of Clapham or Peckham Rye. She would 
— as we all would — have Stratford kept as much as 
possible like Stratford was when Shakespeare wan- 
dered by Avon's banks or brooded over the fire in 
his home near to the old Guild Church. 

** Ardath " was written in a hot glow of inspira- 
tion. Its theme is drawn from the Book of Esdras, 
one of the apocryphal Jewish writings which, 
while not used for '* establishment of doctrine," 
are held to be of value for historical purposes and 
for ''instruction of manners." 'Like a constantly 
recurring refrain in a musical composition, the pas- 
sage in Esdras chosen by the authoress for her text 
greets the reader ever and anon as he turns the 
pages : '' So I went my way into the Field which is 
called ' Ardath,' and sat among the flowers." 

On this passage Miss Corelli built her romance, 
and so successfully did she work out her ideas that 
" Ardath " drew letters from all sorts and conditions 
of men — letters discussing the theories propounded 
in her writings, and asking for information and ad- 
vice of encyclopaedic character. Amongst the cor- 




A Boating Place on the Avon 




A Favorite Reach on the Avon 



*'Arciath'* 81 

respondence were many flattering letters from men 
and women of light and leading, not only in Eng- 
land, but abroad. The novel under notice, which 
was issued in 1889, brought Miss Corelli a letter of 
praise from Lord Tennyson. The work was indeed 
so remarkable a piece of imaginative conception 
and picturesque writing that it appealed peculiarly 
to the Laureate's sense of the poetic and artistic. 

Of the mission of the book, which was of serious 
character, we shall speak anon. " Ardath " is one 
of the author's finest efforts to further the cause of 
true religion. A strange outcome of the book was 
the proposed building, by some enthusiastic Amer- 
icans, of a Corelli city in Fremont County, Colo- 
rado, U. S. A., on the Arkansas River, and a prospec- 
tus was actually issued explaining the project. 

" Ardath " is divided into three parts. In the first 
is introduced a sceptic poet, Theos Alwyn. In the 
Second Book, Theos is transplanted into the city of 
Al-Kyris, in a bygone world, where he is supposed 
to have led a previous existence five thousand years 
before Christ's advent. In the Third Book, Alwyn 
is back in London, amongst old associates, with 
the knowledge of all these strange experiences 
within him. The book has a sub-title, ** The Story 
of a Dead Self," and it is in the city of Al-Kyris that 
the peculiar "Dead Self" experience comes to 



82 Marie Corelli 

Theos Alwyn, through whom Miss Corelli ex- 
pounds lessons to all men — and women. 

The story opens in the heart of the Caucasus 
Mountains, where a wild storm is gathering, and 
there is an early example of the descriptive delights 
with which the book is adorned. Miss Corelli is 
unique, not alone in her imaginings and in her 
treatment of them, but, too, in her powerful pic- 
tures of scenery. Here, 

"in the lonely Caucasus heights, drear shadows 
drooped and thickened above the Pass of Dariel — 
that terrific gorge which like a mere thread seems 
to hang between the toppling frost-bound heights 
above, and black abysmal depths below. Clouds, 
fringed ominously with lurid green and white, 
drifted heavily yet swiftly across the jagged peaks 
where, looming largely out of the mist, the snow- 
capped crest of Mount Kazbek rose coldly white 
against the darkness of the threatening sky. . . . 
Night was approaching, though away to the west a 
broad gash of crimson, a seeming wound in the 
breast of heaven, showed where the sun had set an 
hour since. Now and again the rising wind moaned 
sobbingly through the tall and spectral pines that, 
with knotted roots fast clenched in the reluctant 
earth, clung tenaciously to their stony vantage 
ground; and mingling with its wailing murmur, 
there came a distant hoarse roaring as of tumbling 
torrents, while at far-off intervals could be heard 
the sweeping thud of an avalanche slipping from 
point to point on its disastrous downward way. 
Through the wreathing vapors the steep, bare sides 
of the near mountains were pallidly visible, their 



"Ardath'* 83 

icy pinnacles, like uplifted daggers, piercing with 
sharp glitter the density of the low-hanging haze, 
from which large drops of moisture began pres- 
ently to ooze rather than fall. Gradually the wind 
increased, and soon with sudden fierce gusts shook 
the pine-trees into shuddering anxiety, — the red 
slit in the sky closed, and a gleam of forked light- 
ning leaped athwart the driving darkness. An ap- 
palling crash of thunder followed almost instanta- 
neously, its deep boom vibrating in sullenly grand 
echoes on all sides of the Pass; and then — with a 
swirling, hissing rush of rain — the unbound hurri- 
cane burst forth alive and furious. On, on! — split- 
ting huge boughs and flinging them aside like 
straws, swelling the rivers into riotous floods that 
swept hither and thither, carrying with them 
masses of rock and stone and tons of loosened 
snow — on, on! with pitiless force and destructive 
haste, the tempest rolled, thundered, and shrieked 
its way through Dariel." , 



It was such fine writing as this, doubtless, which 
caught Tennyson's fancy on casually opening the 
book to inspect and arrive at conclusions concern- 
ing its contents for himself, regardless of anything 
reviewers might have said previously in its disfavor. 
It was a sympathetic perusal of its many pages 
that drew from him a letter of commendation 
which he duly dispatched to its writer. It was the 
poetic conception of the city of Al-Kyris which ap- 
pealed to the lonely Man of Wight, pondering, in 
his long island walks, on the strange romance of 



84 Marie Corelli 

pre-Babylonian times set down by a woman who 
had won the whole-hearted approval of his great 
contemporary, William Gladstone. 

Not unlike this majestic opening of **Ardath" 
are many of the poet's own sublime pen-pictures. 
A master of verse, standing high above all others of 
his time as well as above most who had preceded 
him, the warm encomiums that he deliberately 
awarded to Marie Corelli should surely silence the 
snarls of envious Grub Street. 

But to our story. Within the Monastery of Lars, 
"far up among the crags crowning the ravine," are 
seen a group of monks whose intonations strangely 
stir a listener, — an Englishman, — Alwyn, whose 
musings on the reverential exercises of the monks 
indicate the religious purpose that underlies the 
story which follows. For Alwyn at the time is not 
only a poet, but an egoist and an agnostic. What 
sort of fellows are these monks, he muses, — fools 
or knaves ? They must be one or the other, thinks 
he, else they would not thus chant praises ' * to a Deity 
of whose existence there is, and can be, no proof." 
He is none the less conscious that the ending of 
faith and the prevalence of what he regards as 
Truth, would be a dreary result, destroying the 
beauty of the Universe. With cold and almost con- 
temptuous feelings he watches the proceedings of 



" Ardath " 85 

these monks, and listens to the recital of their seven 
Glorias : 

"Glory to God, the Most High, the Supreme and 
Eternal!" And with one harmonious murmur of 
accord the brethren respond: 

" Glory forever and ever ! Amen ! " 

Vespers over, the monks leave their chapel, and 
immediately the agnostic poet is face to face with 
one who is presumably chief of the Order — the 
monk who had recited the Glorias. And who, in- 
deed, is he ? None other than the mystic scientist, 
the Heliobas of "A Romance of Two Worlds," 
who has now adopted this secluded monastic life. 
To him Theos Alwyn explains that he is miserable, 
and that, though an agnostic and searcher after ab- 
solute and positive proof, he desires for a time to 
be deluded into a state of happiness. So, the Pa- 
risian fame of Heliobas having reached him, this 
modern poet does not hesitate to seek from him a 
peace and happiness which neither his world of 
success nor his agnostic opinions can give him. 
From Heliobas he learns that this strange monk 
possesses a certain spiritual force which can over- 
power and subdue material force— that he can re- 
lease the poet's soul— "that is, the Inner Intelligent 
Spirit which is the actual You " — from its house of 



86 Marie Corelli 

clay and allow it an interval of freedom. Alwyn 
pleads — even demands — that Heliobas will exercise 
this power at once; but the monk, amazed and re- 
proachful, declines. 

"To-night! — without faith, preparation, or prayer, 
— you are willing to be tossed through the realms 
of space hke a grain of dust in a whirling tempest? 
Beyond the gUttering gyration of unnumbered stars 
— through the sword-like flash of streaming comets 
— through darkness — through light — through depths 
of profoundest silence — over heights of vibrating 
sound — you— you will dare to wander in these 
God-invested regions — you, a blasphemer and a 
doubter of God! " 

Stranger than many of the marvels of the book 
is the scene that follows. It is a contest of Will 
between Alwyn and Heliobas. The former, con- 
centrating all the powers of his mind upon the 
effort, declares that Heliobas shall release his 
soul : 

"He felt twice a man and more than half a 
God . . . what — what was that dazzling some- 
thing in the air that flashed and whirled and shone 
like glittering wheels of golden flame.? His lips 
parted — he stretched out his hands in the uncertain 
manner of a blind man feeling his way. *Oh,God! 
— God! 'he muttered, as though stricken by some 
sudden amazement; then, with a smothered gasp- 
ing cry he staggered and fell heavily forward on the 
floor — insensible! . . ." 



" Ardath " 87 

The soul of the poet had by a superhuman access 
of will managed to break its bonds and escape 
elsewhere. ** But whither? Into what vast realms 
of translucent light or drear shadow?" Unable 
to answer the question, the monk betakes himself 
to the monastery chapel, and prays in silence till 
the heavy night had passed and the storm "had 
slain itself with the sword of its own fury on the 
dark slopes of the Pass of Dariel." 

Theos for a time lies as one dead. Anon he 
awakes, seats himself at a table, and writes. 
Sometimes he murmurs *' Ardath," but he goes on 
writing for hours. Then Heliobas rejoins him. 
"I have been dreaming," Theos says. The monk 
points to the written manuscript as proof that the 
dream has been productive, at any rate. Alwyn 
reads from the manuscript and recites: 

" With thundering notes of song sublime 
I cast my sins away from me, 
On stairs of sound I mount — I climb ! 
The angels wait and pray for me ! " 

But that, he remembers, is a stanza he had heard 
somewhere when he was a boy. Why does he 
now think of it ? " She has waited,— so she said,— 
these many thousand days!" And there was the 
key to the dream. There was a woman in it; and 
an angel. 



88 Marie Corelli 

Theos explains his dream to Heliobas, tells how 
he had seemed to fly into darkness, how in wild 
despair he cried "Oh, God, where art Thou?" 
and heard a great rushing sound as of a strong 
wind beaten through with wings, while a voice, 
grand and sweet as a golden trumpet blown sud- 
denly in the silence of night, answered, ''Here! 
— and Everywhere ! " And then all was brightness, 
a slanting stream of opaline radiance cleft the 
gloom, and Alwyn was uplifted by an invisible 
strength. And then he hears some one call him 
by name, "Theos, my Beloved!" and a woman 
of entrancing beauty appears, crowned with white 
flowers, and robed in a garb that seems spun 
from midsummer moonbeams; ... a smiling 
maiden-sweetness in a paradise of glad sights and 
sounds. 

And this being, bidding Alwyn return to his own 
star, further directs him to seek out the Field of 
Ardath, where she will meet him. And so they 
part. 

Theos Alwyn awakens from his dream madly in 
love with this vision of loveliness, and determines, 
if a Field of Ardath there is, to go there and keep 
the appointment. Heliobas shows him where the 
Field of Ardath lies. It is mentioned in the Book 
of Esdras, in the Apocrypha, and is described as 



"Ardath" 89 

situated four miles west of the Babylonian ruins. 
Alwyn decides on journeying thither, first sending 
the poem he had written to his London friend, 
Francis Villiers, with the request that as "Nour- 
halma; a Love Legend of the Past," it shall be 
published in the usual way. 

By the waters of Babylon we next find Theos 
Alwyn, who is soon housed in the Hermitage, near 
Hillah, with one Elzear of Malyana, to whom 
Heliobas has supplied the traveler with a letter of 
introduction. So impatient is this lover to prove 
the truth or falsity of his mystic vision at Dariel, 
that, on the first night of his arrival at the 
Hermitage, he proceeds shortly before midnight 
to search for the Field of Ardath which was known 
to the Prophet Esdras. He sets forth, and the 
wondrous story of his experiences immediately 
commences. "Kyrie eleison ! Christe eleison! 
Kyrie eleison ! " sung by full, fresh, youthful voices 
in clear and harmonious unison, greets his ears; 
though whence comes the sound, and from whom, 
there is nothing to show. "Was ever madman 
more mad than I," he murmurs. It is a sweet and 
fascinating madness none the less, for the angel- 
lover is true to her promise. " Behold the field 
thou thoughtest barren, how great a glory hath 
the moon unveiled!" quoth the Prophet Esdras, 



go Marie Corelli 

and as Theos treads the Field of Ardath, which 
had appeared, when first his eyes rested upon it, a 
dreary and desolate place, he finds the turf covered 
with white blossoms, star-shaped and glossy- 
leaved, with deep golden centres, wherein bright 
drops of dew sparkled like brilliants, and whence 
puffs of perfume rose like incense swung at unseen 
altars. And here he finds, moving sedately along 
through the snow-white blossoms, a graceful girl. 
He no longer has eyes for the flower-transfiguration 
of the lately barren land. "My name is Edris; I 
came from a far, far country, Theos, — a land where 
no love is wasted and no promise forgotten!" she 
tells him. More than that, she adds that she has 
waited and prayed for him through long bright 
aeons of endless glory, and he recognizes in Edris 
at last the angel of his vision. She upbraids him 
for his doubts and unhappiness, speaks slightingly 
of fame as a perishable diadem; and crying." O 
fair King Christ, Thou shalt prevail!" she leaves 
him, and as she goes Theos is told " prayers are 
heard, and God's great patience never tires; — learn 
therefore from the perils of the past, the perils of 
the future." Alwyn, falling senseless, drifts into 
the dream wherein he is to learn the story of his 
new self. 
The description of Theos's dream fills over fifteen 



"Ardath" 



91 



score of pages. The reader is impelled on and on, 
finding in every step new subject for wonder. The 
city of Al-Kyris is a feast of scenic splendors, the 
skill of the writer providing fascinating word- 
pictures of incidents more strange than were ever 
imagined in an Arabian Nights' entertainment. 
And through all runs a steady and strong undercur- 
rent made up of the solid lesson of the book, 
" learn from the perils of the past, the perils of the 
future." 

Theos Alwyn could not tell how long he slept on 
the Field of Ardath, for his awakening was con- 
fusing. He had a consciousness of his previous 
life, its conditions, his position, and opinions. All 
now was changed. He was before a gate leading 
into a walled city, the entrance to which consisted 
of huge massive portals apparently made of finely 
moulded brass, and embellished on either side 
by thick round stone towers from the summits of 
which red pennons drooped idly in the air. 
Through the portals was seen a wide avenue paved 
entirely with mosaics, and along this passed an 
endless stream of wayfarers. A strange city and a 
strange people. Fruit-sellers, carrying their lovely 
luscious merchandise in huge gilded baskets, stood 
at almost every corner; flower-girls, fair as their 
own flowers, bore aloft in their gracefully upraised 



gi Marie Corelli 

arms wide wicker trays overflowing with odorous 
blossoms tied into clusters and wreaths. Theos 
understood the language spoken. It was perfectly 
familiar to him — more so than his own native 
tongue. What was his native tongue ? Who was 
he.^ "Theos Alwyn" was all he could remember. 
Whence did he come ? The answer was direct and 
decisive. From Ardath. But what was Ardath ? 
Neither a country nor a city. And his dress! — he 
glanced at it, dismayed and appalled — he had 
not noticed it till now. It bore some resemblance 
to the costume of ancient Greece, and consisted of 
a white linen tunic and loose upper vest, both gar- 
ments being kept in place by a belt of silver. From 
this belt depended a sheathed dagger. His feet 
were shod with sandals, his arms were bare to the 
shoulder and clasped at the upper part by two 
broad silver armlets richly chased. The men were 
for the most part arrayed like himself, though here 
and there he met some few whose garments were 
of soft silk, instead of linen, who wore gold belts 
in place of silver, and who carried their daggers in 
sheaths that were literally encrusted all over with 
flashing jewels. 

"The costume of the women was composed of a 
straight clinging gown, slightly gathered at the 
throat and bound about the waist with a twisted 



"Ardath** 



93 



girdle of silver, gold, and, in some cases, jewels- 
their arms, like those of the men, were bare: and 
their small delicate feet were protected by sandals 
fastened with crossed bands of ribbon coquettishly 
knotted. The arrangement of their hair was evi- 
dently a matter of personal taste, and not the 
slavish copying of any set fashion. Some allowed 
It to hang in loosely flowing abundance over their 
shoulders; others had it closely braided or coiled 
carelessly in a thick, soft mass at the top of the 
head; but all without exception wore white veils- 
veils long, transparent and filmy as gossamer 
which they flung back or draped about them at 
their pleasure." 

Dazed and bewildered, Theos Alwyn gazed about 
him. Then, following the crowd, he was borne 
along to a large square which bordered on the 
banks of a river that ran through the city. A 
strange gilded vessel was seen approaching. Huge 
oars, like golden fins, projected from the sides of 
the vessel and dipped lazily now and then into the 
water, wielded by the hands of invisible rowers. 
The ship sparkled all over as though it were carved 
out of one great burning jewel. Golden hangings, 
falling in rich, loose folds, draped it gorgeously 
from stem to stern; gold cordage looped the sails. 
On the deck a band of young girls, clad in white 
and crowned with flowers, knelt, playing softly on 
quaintly shaped instruments; and a cluster of tiny, 
semi-nude boys, fair as young cupids, were grouped 



94 Marie Corelli 

in pretty, reposeful attitudes along the edge of the 
gilded prow, holding garlands of red and yellow 
blossoms which trailed down to the surface of the 
water. 

Theos, gazing dreamily and wonderingly upon 
the scene, was suddenly roused to feverish excite- 
ment, and with a smothered cry of ecstasy fixed 
his straining eager gaze on one supreme, fair figure 
—the central glory of the marvelous picture. 

"A woman or a Goddess.? — a rainbow Flame in 
mortal shape ? — a spirit of earth, air, fire, water ? — 
or a Thought of Beauty embodied into human 
sweetness and made perfect ? Clothed in gold 
attire, and girded with gems, she stood, leaning in- 
dolently against the middle mast of the vessel, her 
great sombre dusky eyes resting drowsily on the 
swarming masses of people, whose frenzied roar of 
rapture and admiration sounded like the breaking of 
billows." 

Beauty-stricken, Theos was roughly brought back 
to a sense of his position as a stranger in the city. 
Al-Kyris was given up to the worship of a serpent, 
Nagaya. This woman who had passed was Na- 
gaya's High Priestess, the chief power in the place. 
All the people worshiped her, and Theos had not, 
with them, fallen down before her. Immediately 
he was seized and roughly handled by the mob, 
who proclaimed him an infidel and a spy. At this 
opportune moment the Poet Laureate of the Realm, 



« Ardath " 95 

one Sah-Luma, made his appearance. In Al-Kyris 
the Laureate was a great man, next only indeed to 
Zephoranim, the King. 

Sah-Luma rebuked the crowd for their ill-treat- 
ment of the stranger; and then, hearing that Theos 
was a poet from a far country, took him to his own 
palace. 

Probably no vainer person than Sah-LCma ever 
existed, whether in a real or imaginary world. 
They were very artistic in Al-Kyris. Nobody ever 
seemed to work except the black slaves. Ap- 
parently there was no necessity for that. The 
people, including the King, positively doted on 
poets. No wonder Sah-Ltjma was the Prince 
of Egoists, seeing that he was the chief poet in 
Al-Kyris. 

The Laureate explained the religion of Al-Kyris 
to his guest: 

** We believe in no actual creed, — who does ? 
We accept a certain given definition of a suppo- 
sititious Divinity, together with the suitable maxims 
and code of morals accompanying that definition — 
we call this Religion, — and we wear it as we wear 
our clothing, for the sake of necessity and decency, 
— though truly we are not half so concerned about 
it as about the far more interesting details of taste 
in attire. Still, we have grown used to our doc- 
trine, and some of us will fight with each other for 
the difference of a word respecting it, — and as it 
contains within itself many seeds of discord and 



96 Marie Corelli 

contradiction, such dissensions are frequent, espe- 
cially among the priests, who, were they but true 
to their professed vocation, should be able to find 
ways of smoothing over all apparent inconsistencies 
and maintaining peace and order. Of course, we, 
in union with all civilized communities, worship the 
Sun, even as thou must do, — in this one leading 
principle at least, our faith is universal! 

" 'And yet,' he went on thoughtfully, 'the well- 
instructed know through our scientists and as- 
tronomers (many of whom are now languishing in 
prison for the boldness of their researches and dis- 
coveries) that the Sun is no divinity at all, but 
simply a huge Planet, — a dense body surrounded by 
a luminous flame-darting atmosphere, — neither self- 
acting nor omnipotent, but only one of many similar 
orbs moving in strict obedience to fixed mathemat- 
ical laws. Nevertheless, this knowledge is wisely 
kept back as much as possible from the multitude; 
— for, were science to unveil her marvels too openly 
to semi-educated and vulgarly constituted minds, 
the result would be, first Atheism, next Republican- 
ism, and, finally, Anarchy and Ruin. If these evils 
— which, like birds of prey, continually hover about 
all great kingdoms — are to be averted," we must, for 
the welfare of the country and people, hold fast to 
some stated form and outward observance of re- 
ligious belief.'" 



These views were strikingly similar to those held 
by Theos when he was in the world, and he could 
thus endorse the further assertions of Sah-LOma, 
who deemed even a false religion better for the 
masses than none at all, urging that men were 
closely allied to brutes. If the moral sense ceased 



"Ardath" 97 

to restrain them they at once leaped the boundary 
line and gave as much rein to their desires and 
appetites as hyenas and tigers. And in some natures 
the moral sense was only kept alive by fear — fear 
of offending some despotic invisible force that per- 
vaded the Universe, and whose chief and most 
terrible attribute was not so much creative as de- 
structive power. Thus Sah-Luma again on the 
theology of Al-Kyris : 

** To propitiate and pacify an unseen Supreme 
Destroyer is the aim of all religions, — and it is for 
this reason we add to our worship of the Sun that 
of the White Serpent, Nagaya the Mediator. Nagaya 
is the favorite object of the people's adoration; — they 
may forget to pay their vows to the Sun, but never 
to Nagaya, who is looked upon as the emblem of 
Eternal Wisdom, the only pleader whose persuasions 
avail to soften the tyrannic humor of the Invincible 
Devourer of all things. We know how men hate 
Wisdom and cannot endure to be instructed; yet 
they prostrate themselves in abject crowds be- 
fore Wisdom's symbol every day in the Sacred 
Temple yonder, — though I much doubt whether 
such constant devotional attendance is not more 
for the sake of Lysia, than the Deified Worm! " 

Lysia, High Priestess of Nagaya, was the charmer 
of the God of Al-Kyris, charmer of the serpent and 
of the hearts of men, ** The hot passion of love is 
to her a toy, clasped and unclasped so!— in the pink 
hollow of her hand; and so long as she retains the 



98 Marie Corelli 

magic of her beauty, so long will Nagaya-worship 
hold Al-Kyris in check." Otherwise, — who was to 
know ? Not Sah-Luma and not Theos, though both 
were to learn later. Already in Al-Kyris, it was ex- 
plained to Theos by his new friend, there were 
philosophers who were tired of the perpetual sacri- 
fices and the shedding of innocent blood that marked 
the worship of the city. There was a Prophet 
Khosrul who even denounced Lysia and Nagaya in 
the open streets, and gave out the faith that was in 
him — that far away in a circle of pure Light the 
true God existed, — a vast, all-glorious Being, who, 
with exceeding marvelous love, controlled and 
guided Creation towards some majestic end. 
Furthermore, Khosrul held that thousands of years 
thence (the times described in Al-Kyris are assumed 
to be 5000 B. c.) this God would embody a portion 
of His own existence in human form, ** and will 
send hither a wondrous creature, half God, half 
man, to live our life, die our death, and teach us by 
precept and example the surest way to eternal hap- 
piness." 

It is the prophet who gave out this faith against 
whom the King and the people of Al-Kyris are 
mostly incensed. They prefer their worship of 
Lysia, " The Virgin Priestess of the Sun and the 
Serpent," who '* receives love as statues may receive 



"Ardath" 99 

it — moving all others to frenzy she is herself un- 
moved." So 'tis said. There is, however, the 
threatening legend: 

«• When the High Priestess 
Is the King's mistress 
Then fall Al-Kyris!" 

And the fall of AI-Kyris is imminent. 

To the splendors of the court of Zephoranim, 
King of Al-Kyris, Theos is duly introduced by the 
Poet Laureate. He finds there that the poetic muse 
is adored, and Sah-Luma is scarcely less esteemed 
than the King, who, indeed, his friend and devotee, 
would almost make the Poet supreme. The gov- 
ernment and religion of Al-Kyris is mainly humbug. 
They sin freely and get absolution at an annual feast 
where a maiden is always slaughtered and offered 
as a sacrifice to Nagaya. 

Theos has some quaint experiences. His great 
friend Sah-Ldma enchants the court with a poem- 
one that Theos faintly remembers he himself had 
written in days of old. The poet and his friend, 
after a court function, proceed to a reception at the 
Palace of Lysia. There they witness and take part 
in marvelous scenes; and the garden of the Palace 
gives the novelist an opportunity for those beautiful 
word-pictures that her pen evolves so brilliantly. 
LofC. 



loo Marie Corelli 

The poets attend a midnight reception and there 
witness an extraordinary ballet which follows a 
banquet even more astounding in its incidents and 
in its revelations of the real character of this so-called 
Virgin Priestess. One, Nir-jalis, who had received 
favors from Lysia, and who, filled and flooded with 
wine, was indiscreet in his utterances, is given by 
her a cup of poison— the Chalice of Oblivion— which 
he drinks, and before a laughing, bacchanalian 
crowd dies a horrible death with the jeering words 
of Lysia in his ears, her contemptuous smile upon 
him. Nobody cares. In Al-Kyris, and certainly in 
Lysia's Palace, they enjoy such scenes. 

Theos, amazed, watches all. He, too, has another 
strange revelation before the night is through. In the 
midst of the revelry he hears a chime of bells, which 
reminds him of the village church of his earlier years, 
and of odd suggestions of fair women who were 
wont to pray for those they loved, and who believed 
their prayers would be answered. As he meditates 
thereon he is suddenly seized and borne swiftly 
along till in the moonlight he recognizes Lysia. 
Dramatic indeed is the scene that follows. Theos 
makes a passionate declaration of love to her, and 
has the promise from Lysia: " Thou shalt be hon- 
ored above the noblest in the land . . . riches, 
power, fame, all shall be thine — if thou wilt do my 



"Ardath" loi 

bidding.'* The bidding is " Kill Sah-LUma," and it 
is Lysia who shows Theos his sleeping friend and 
places in his hand the dagger with which to strike. 
Horrified at the suggestion, Theos flings the weapon 
from him, escapes from the Palace, and reaches the 
home of Sah-Lilma, where, later, the Poet Laureate 
rejoins him. 

The sands of Al-Kyris were fast running out, and 
events crowded one upon the other in rapid succes- 
sion. Theos was terrorized when Sah-Ltlma recited 
"the latest offspring of my fertile genius — my lyrical 
romance 'Nourhalma.'" Then the full title was 
proclaimed — "Nourhalma: A Love-Legend of the 
Past"; and we are given. the first line of this mys- 
terious poem : 

" A central sorrow dwells in perfect joy. ^* 

It was the poem written by Theos after the vision 
of Edris! He had to hear Sah-Luma proclaim it as 
his own; to praise it, too, as the work of the other. 
Assuredly the cup of self-abnegation for Theos Alwy n 
was very full. As they talked about the poem a 
great commotion was heard in the streets. Theos 
and Sah-Lt:ima found themselves in the midst of a 
turbulent crowd, who, for once, even disregarded 
the Poet Laureate. The Prophet KhosrQl was pre- 
dicting in the midst of excited multitudes the early 



102 Marie CorcUi 

destruction of the city, and the coming of the Re- 
deemer. Upon Theos was again forced the knowl- 
edge which was his in the world whence he had 
been transported to this pre-Christian age; and, sud- 
denly roused to excitement, he declared to these 
talented barbarians — "He has come! He died for 
us, and rose again from the dead more than eighteen 
hundred years ago ! " 

From the astonishment caused by this declaration 
the people had scarcely been roused by words from 
Sah-Luma, when King Zephoranim appeared. Khos- 
rill, having delivered his last dread warning, fell 
dead; and his decease was immediately followed by 
the collapse of the great obelisk of the city. The 
people's final terrors had begun. The last words of 
the Prophet Khosrul had been a reiteration of the 
old forgotten warning regarding the relations of the 
High Priestess and the King, and the fall of the city 
was foretold for that night. 

Escaping the destruction caused by the fall of the 
obelisk, Sah-Luma and Theos returned to the Palace 
of the former, and there the Poet Laureate for the 
first time showed real emotion on learning that his 
favorite slave, Niphrata, had left him forever. Soon 
Sah-Luma and Theos were summoned by Zel, High 
Priest of the Sacrificial Altar, to take part in the 
Great Sacrifice; for the people were terrified by the 



"Ardath" 103 

many strange happenings and were about to join in 
solemn unison to implore the favor of Nagaya and 
the gods. The Temple of Nagaya was magnifi- 
cently decorated for this New Year's Festival. There 
Sah-Luma found that the maiden to be sacrificed was 
Niphrata, and he made an impassioned demand, then 
an appeal, for her life. Niphrata was permitted 
her choice, but she repudiated Sah-Luma, appearing 
to be in love with some ghostly representation of 
the Poet and to be unconscious of his material ex- 
istence. She had, she plaintively cried, waited for 
happiness so long; and, the Sacrificial Priest calling 
for the victim, she rushed upon the knife the Priest 
held ready for her. One second and she was seen 
speeding towards the knife; the next — and the 
whole place was enveloped in darkness. Fire broke 
out in every part of the Temple. A terrible scene 
of destruction was enacted, and the terrified people 
rushed hither and thither in the effort to save their 
lives; — efforts vain, because the last day of the city 
had come, — Al-Kyris was doomed, — there was res- 
cue neither for people nor priests. 

Sah-Luma, death being certain, desired to die with 
Lysia, but his claim was contested by the King. 
Sovereign and Poet then learned that they had been 
rivals in love. The prophecy of Khosrill was being 
fulfilled. The barbarous Lysia, even in these last 



104 Marie Corelli 

moments, was fierce in her hate, and demanded of 
the King that he should kill Sah-Luma. Her last 
order was obeyed. She could secure the death of 
the Poet, but she could not save herself. Her own 
death was one of the most terrible and appalling 
scenes ever conceived or described. Nagaya, the 
huge snake that the people of Al-Kyris had wor- 
shiped, claimed its own. Frightened by the 
flames, in its fear it turned upon its mistress Lysia, 
and, with the King vainly striving to drag her from 
the coils of the python, the High Priestess, chief of 
the city of lies, atheism, and humbug, died a death 
which she had many times remorselessly and glee- 
fully decreed for others. 

Theos, gazing at the funeral pyre, as it vaguely 
seemed to him, of a wasted love and a dead passion, 
passed from the scene, taking with him the dead 
body of his friend the Poet. And as he kept his 
steadfast gaze on Sah-Luma's corpse, "the dead 
Poet's eyes grew into semblance of his own eyes, 
the dead Sah-Luma's face smiled spectrally back at 
him in the image of his own face!— it was as though 
he beheld the Picture of Himself, slain and * reflected 
in a magician's mirror!'" Humbly he prayed to 
God to pardon his sins and to teach him what he 
should know; and again he heard soft, small voices 
singing Kyrie Eleison, and awoke to find himself 



"Ardath" lo^ 

on the Field of Ardath, the dawn just breaking, and 
the angel Edris near him. Then Edris told him that 
in the past he had been Sah-Luma, that in those 
days he would neither hear Christ nor believe in 
Him, and that his talents had been misused ; she also 
told Theos how his future years should be spent. 
She promised that afterwards he should meet her 
in the highest Heaven, but ** not till then, unless the 
longing of thy love compels." 

It is in that portion of the work called *' Poet and 
Angel " that the serious aim of Marie Corelli in 
writing this romance is clearly and emphatically 
brought out. Theos Alwyn is himself once again; 
but he is a very different self. Returning to Lon- 
don he is received warmly by his friend Villiers, 
and hears that ** Nourhalma " has brought him much 
of fame and profit. He had ceased to care for one 
or the other. He tells Villiers he has become a 
Christian, anxious, so far as he is able, to follow a 
faith so grand, and pure, and true. In his declara- 
tions on the subject we hear what our author again 
and again urges in many books — that Christianity 
and Religion are not determined by one sect or the 
other. In the words of Theos: 

*' I am not a * convert ' to any particular set form 
of faith, — what I care for is the faith itself. One 
can follow and serve Christ without any church 



io6 Marie Corelli 

dogma. He has Himself told us plainly, in words 
simple enough for a child to understand, what He 
would have us do, — and though I, like many others, 
must regret the absence of a true Universal Church 
where the servants of Christ may meet all together 
without a shadow of difference in opinion, and 
worship Him as He should be worshiped, still, 
that is no reason why I should refrain from endeav- 
oring to fulfil, as far as in me lies, my personal 
duty towards Him. The fact is, Christianity has 
never yet been rightly taught, grasped, or compre- 
hended;— moreover, as long as men seek through it 
their own worldly advantage, it never will be,--so 
that the majority of people are really as yet ignorant 
of its true spiritual meaning, thanks to the quarrels 
and differences of sects and preachers. But, not- 
withstanding the unhappy position of religion at 
the present day, 1 repeat I am a Christian, if love 
for Christ and implicit belief in Him can make me 
so." 

This is the text on which many of Alwyn's pow- 
erful arguments are based, in dealing, both in and 
out of society, with those opinions of sceptics and 
agnostics which had formerly commended them- 
selves to him but which he now combats with con- 
vincing clearness and strength. To emphasize his 
position he quotes that terse rebuke of Carlyle's, in 
"Sartor Resartus," as to the uselessness of Vol- 
taire's work: 

"Cease, my much respected Herr von Voltaire, 
— shut thy sweet voice; for the task appointed thee 
seems finished. Sufficiently hast thou demonstrated 



"Ardath" 107 

this proposition, considerable or otherwise: That 
the Mytiius of the Christian Religion looks not in 
the eighteenth century as it did in the eighth. Alas, 
were thy six-and-thirty quartos and the six-and- 
thirty thousand other quartos and folios and flying 
sheets of reams, printed before and since on the 
same subject, all needed to convince us of so little! 
But what next ? Wilt thou help us to embody the 
Divine Spirit of that Religion in a new Mythus, in a 
new vehicle and vesture, that our Souls, otherwise 
too like perishing, may live ? What! thou hast no 
faculty of that kind ? Only a torch for burning and 
no hammer for building ? — Take our thanks then — 
and thyself away! " 

The theologian and the lay thinker alike must 
follow with keen interest the arguments of Theos 
Alwyn against atheism, materialism, and, what 
Miss Corelli calls, Paulis'm. Uncompromisingly 
should those writers be denounced who take im- 
morality for their theme, and achieve considerable 
sales thereby. The declarations of Alwyn are of 
particular interest because in them expression is 
given to many of Marie Corelli's own views on 
sacred things. The man or woman who is bewil- 
dered by the quarrels of the religious sects of these 
days, and whose bewilderment is increased by the 
teachings of the cynics, may well exclaim with 
Alwyn what a howling wilderness this world 
would be if given over entirely to materialism, and 
conclude with him that, if it were, scarce a line of 



io8 Marie Corelli 

division could be drawn between man and the 
brute beasts of the field! "I consider," says the 
poet, "that if you take the hope of an after-joy and 
blessedness away from the weary, perpetually toil- 
ing Million, you destroy, at one wanton blow, their 
best, purest, and noblest aspirations. As for the 
Christian Religion, I cannot believe that so grand 
and holy a Symbol is perishing among us. We 
have a monarch whose title is 'Defender of the 
Faith,' — we live in the age of civilization which is 
primarily the result of that faith,— and if, as it is 
said, Christianity is exploded, — then certainly the 
greatness of this hitherto great nation is exploding 
with it! But I do not think, that because a few 
sceptics uplift their wailing * All is vanity ' from 
their self-created desert of agnosticism, therefore 
the majority of men and women are turning rene- 
gades from the simplest, most humane, most un- 
selfish Creed that ever the world has known. It 
may be so, but, at present, I prefer to trust in the 
higher spiritual instinct of man at his best, rather 
than accept the testimony of the lesser Unbelieving 
against the greater Many, whose strength, comfort, 
patience and endurance, if these virtues come not 
from God, come not at all." 

To those who, through the atheistic views of 
some in the churches and of the hosts outside, be- 



"Ardath" 109 

gin to feel 'doubt as to the truth of the Christian 
faith, this book "Ardath" will be of enormous 
value. It will strengthen their faith and aid greatly 
to carry conviction to those who pause, unable to 
decide amid the chaotic teachings of conflicting 
theorists. We praise this book more especially for 
its virtue as an antidote to the pitiful writings of 
some female novelists whose vicious themes must 
do much harm amongst the women of the day. "If 
women give up their faith," declares Alwyn to the 
Duchess de la Santoisie, 'Met the world prepare for 
strange disaster! Good, God-loving women,— 
women who pray, — women who hope, — women 
who inspire men to do the best that is in them,— 
these are the safety and glory of nations! When 
women forget to kneel, — when women cease to 
teach their children the 'Our Father,' by whose 
grandly simple plea Humanity claims Divinity as its 
origin,— then shall we learn what is meant by 
' men's hearts failing them for fear and for looking 
after those things which are coming on the earth.' 
A woman who denies Christ repudiates Him, Who, 
above all others, made her sex as free and honored 
as everywhere in Christendom it is. He never re- 
fused woman's prayers, — He had patience for her 
weakness,— pardon for her sins,— and any book 
written by woman's hand that does Him the small- 



1 lo Marie Corelli 

est shadow of wrong is to me as gross an act as 
that of one who, loaded with benefits, scruples not 
to murder his benefactor! " 

The reading of ** Ardath" will help many to the 
conviction of Theos Alwyn — "God Exists. I, of 
my own choice, prayer, and hope, voluntarily be- 
lieve in God, in Christ, in angels, and in all things 
beautiful, and pure, and grand! Let the world and 
its ephemeral opinions wither; I will not be shaken 
down from the first step of the ladder whereon one 
climbs to Heaven!" 

Such is the teaching of this remarkable book 
''Ardath," which inculcates these lessons inter- 
woven with a romantic story of fascinating interest. 

Towards its close there occurs, again in the per- 
son and in the words of Heliobas, a scathing 
comment upon ''spiritualists," for whom six tests 
are suggested: 

" Firstly,— Do they serve themselves more than 
others ? — If so, they are entirely lacking in spiritual 
attributes. 

*' Secondly. — Will they take money for their pro- 
fessed knowledge ? — If so, they condemn them- 
selves as paid tricksters. 

"Thirdly. — Are the men and women of com- 
monplace and thoroughly material life ? — Then, it is 



"Ardath" in 

plain they 'cannot influence others to strive for a 
higher existence. 

"Fourthly. — Do they love notoriety ?— If they 
do, the gates of the unseen world are shut upon 
them. 

'* Fifthly. — Do they disagree among themselves, 
and speak against one another ? — If so, they con- 
tradict by their own behavior all the laws of spirit- 
ual force and harmony. 

''Sixthly and lastly.— Do they reject Christ? — If 
they do, they know nothing whatever about Spirit- 
ualism, there being none without Him." 

There is a charming finale. Theos marries the 
angel Edris. An angel ? Yes; but an angel because 
a woman, most purely womanly. That is all, and 
all women can be angels — '*A Dream of Heaven 
made human!" 



CHAPTER V! 
"wormwood" and "the soul of lilith" 

Some day a selection of extracts from "The 
Works of Marie Corelli " will be published, and ex- 
cellent reading it will prove. For, scattered about 
the novelist's goodly list of books, one may light on 
many interesting little observations concerning hu- 
man nature which will well bear reproduction with- 
out the context. In the course of this biography a 
modest choice of Miss Corelli's thoughts on relig- 
ion, men, women, education, and such-like topics 
will be found; but it is impossible in the narrow 
scope of the present publication to quote every- 
thing that one would like to. 

Early in "Wormwood" there occurs a passage 
of the kind to which we refer. It is a pretty descrip- 
tion of the ill-fated heroine of the story, and of her 
"soft and trifling chatter." Pauline de Charmilles 
is eighteen, newly home from school — "a child as 
innocent and fresh as a flower just bursting into 
bloom, with no knowledge of the world into which 
she was entering, and with certainly no idea of the 
power of her own beauty to rouse the passions of 



"Wormwood'* and "The Soul of Lilith" 113 

men." Pauline, by mutual parental head-nodding, 
is thrown much into the society of young Beauvais 
(who tells the story), a wealthy banker's son. His 
description of the girl forms the passage alluded to 
above: 

" Pauline de Charmilles was not a shy girl, but 
by this I do not mean it to be in the least imagined 
that she was bold. On the contrary, she had 
merely that quick brightness and esprit which is 
the happy heritage of so many Frenchwomen, none 
of whom think it necessary to practice or assume 
the chilly touch-me-not diffidence and unbecoming 
constraint which make the young English **mees" 
such a tame and tiresome companion to men of 
sense and humor. She was soon perfectly at her 
ease with me, and became prettily garrulous and 
confidential, telling me stories of her life at Lau- 
sanne, describing the loveliness of the scenery on 
Lake Leman, and drawing word-portraits of her 
teachers and schoolmates with a facile directness 
and point that brought them at once before the 
mind's eye as though they were actually present." 

Pauline's ingenuousness and alluring looks quickly 
enslave young Beauvais. He cannot understand 
the reason of this fascination. He quite realizes 
that she is a bread-and-butter schoolgirl, and "a 
mere baby in thought," but—she is beautiful. So, 
having granted that the net in which he finds him- 
self immeshed is purely a physical one, he thus 
descants on the reasonableness of his fall: 



114 Marie Corelli 

" Men never fall in love at first with a woman's 
mind; only with her body. They may learn to ad- 
mire the mind afterwards, if it prove worth admi- 
ration, but it is always a secondary thing. This 
may be called a rough truth, but it is true, for all 
that. Who marries a woman of intellect by choice ? 
No one; and if some unhappy man does it by acci- 
dent, he generally regrets it. A stupid beauty is the 
most comfortable sort of housekeeper going, be- 
lieve me. She will be strict with the children, scold 
the servants, and make herself look as ornamental 
as she can, till age and fat render ornament super- 
fluous. But a woman of genius, with that strange 
subtle attraction about her which is yet not actual 
beauty, — she is the person to be avoided if you 
would have peace; if you would escape reproach; 
if you would elude the fixed and melancholy watch- 
fulness of a pair of eyes haunting you in the night." 



The love of Beauvais is apparently returned by 
Pauline, and all goes merrily in the direction of 
marriage-bells, whose ringing seems a matter of no 
great distance off when the two young people be- 
come betrothed; although it is apparent to a great 
friend of Pauline's, HeloTse St. Cyr, that the school- 
girl is not so sure of herself in the matter of being 
in love as she should be. 

Among the many charmingly French touches in 
this book is Pauline's reassuring speech to her lover. 
"Be satisfied, Gaston; I am thy very good little 
fiancee, who is very, very fond of thee, and happy 
in thy company, voild tout!" And then, taking a 



" Wormwood " and " The Soul of Lilith "115 

rose from her bouquet-de-corsage, she fastens it in 
his button-hole, enchanting him completely. 

Then comes Silvion Guidel, nephew of M. 
Vaudron, Cure of the parish in which live the De 
Charmilles. Guidel is destined for the priesthood 
and possesses considerable personal charms. Beau- 
vais per e comments on them: 

"A remarkably handsome fellow, that Guidel!" 
he said. ** Dangerously so, for a priest! It is for- 
tunate that his lady penitents will not be able to see 
him very distinctly through the confessional grat- 
ings, else who knows what might happen! He 
has a wonderful gift of eloquence too. Dost thou 
like him, Gaston ?" 

"No!" I replied frankly, and at once, " I cannot 
say I do!" 

My father looked surprised. 

"But why?" 

" Impossible to tell, mon pere. He is fascinating, 
he is agreeable, he is brilliant; but there is some- 
thing in him that I mistrust! " 

As events prove, Beauvais fils has only too good 
reason to distrust the embryo priest. Soon after, 
Beauvais pere is called away to London for several 
weeks, and, as a consequence of the superintending 
of the Paris banking house falling entirely to the 
son, Gaston sees but little of his fiancee. But he is 
often in the company of Silvion Guidel, to whom 
Me becomes much attached in spite of his previous 
telings towards M. Vaudron's nephew. So, writ- 



il6 Marie Corelli 

ing the history of those days long afterwards, Beau- 
vais acknowledges that he was mistaken in chang- 
ing his attitude towards Guidel: 

" Though first impressions are sometimes errone- 
ous, I believe there is a balance in favor of their 
correctness. If a singular antipathy seizes you for 
a particular person at first sight, no matter how 
foolish it may seem, you may be almost sure that 
there is something in your two natures that is 
destined to remain in constant opposition. You 
may conquer it for a time; it may even change, as 
it did in my case, to profound affection; but, 
sooner or later, it will spring up again, with tenfold 
strength and deadliness; the reason of your first 
aversion will be made painfully manifest, and the 
end of it all will be doubly bitter because of the 
love that for a brief while sweetened it. 1 say 
I loved Silvion Guidel! — and in proportion to the 
sincerity of that love, 1 afterwards measured the in- 
tensity of my hate!" 

The wedding day draws closer, and Beauvais re- 
mains blind to everything save his own joy and 
the bliss which he fondly imagines will result from 
the union. True, he sometimes notices a certain 
lack of enthusiasm in Pauline's view of the ap- 
proaching ceremony, but he attributes this and her 
wistfulness of expression to " the nervous excite- 
ment a young girl would naturally feel at the swift 
approach of her wedding day." Strangely enough, 
Guidel, too, shows signs of physical and mental 



" Wormwood " and '' The Soul of Lilith "117 

distress, but when Beauvais rallies him on his man- 
ner and appearance, he puts the young banker off 
with light speeches in which, however, there is 
a certain bitterness which puzzles the latter consid- 
erably. However, Beauvais still suspects nothing. 
At length Pauline shatters all his dreams of the 
future, and makes him a miserable wretch for life, 
by confessing that she loves Silvion Guidel, that her 
love is returned, and that, in consequence of this 
mutual passion, the worst of possible fates has 
befallen her. 

Then Beauvais flies to absinthe drinking, which 
is the keynote of the story. From that time on it is 
all absinthe. A broken-down painter, Andre Ges- 
sonex, lures him on to this disastrous form of 
begetting forgetf ulness ; and this is the first step 
down the short steep hill which leads to the young 
banker's utter ruin. Having once tasted the potent 
and fascinating mixture, he returns to it again and 
again, and gradually it warps him, physically and 
mentally, finally transforming him into one of 
the meanest scoundrels in Paris. 

But this is after many days. On the morning 
after his first bout of absinthe drinking, Beauvais 
decides to challenge Silvion, but discovers that 
the betrayer of Pauline has disappeared from Paris. 
Thereupon, though sore at heart, he determines 



ii8 Marie Corelli 

to save Pauline's family an infinity of shame by 
marrying the girl; and so the preparations con- 
tinue. 

But in the interval that elapses between this 
decision and the date fixed for the nuptials, the ab- 
sinthe works a terrible change in Beauvais' attitude 
towards Pauline, with the result that, when the day 
of the ceremony arrives, he denounces her before 
her parents and the large assembly of guests as the 
cast-off mistress of Guidel, and harshly refuses 
to make her his wife. 

The awful effect of this speech may be imagined; 
poor Pauline's looks confirm the truth of his state- 
ment; the guests quietly leave the broken-hearted 
parents with their daughter; there is no marriage. 
Take the decorations down; fling the wedding 
feast to the mendicants who whine round the 
house; there is no marriage! 

Even Beauvais pere turns on his miscreant of 
a son as they quit the desolate girl's abode: 

"Gaston, you have behaved like a villain! 1 
would not have believed that my son could have 
been capable of such a coward's vengeance! " 

I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. 

" You are excited, mon pere ! What have I done 
save speak the truth, and, as the brave English say, 
shame the devil .?" 

" The truth— the truth! " said my father passion- 
ately. "Is it the truth ? and if it is, could it not 



" Wormwood " and " The Soul of Lilith "119 

have been told in a less brutal fashion ? You have 
acted like a fiend! — not like a man! If Silvion 
Guidel be a vile seducer, and that poor child Pauline 
his credulous, ruined victim, could you not have 
dealt with him and have spared her? God! I 
would as soon wring the neck of a bird that trusted 
me, as add any extra weight to the sorrows of 
an already broken-hearted woman!" 



More than this, the indignant old man gives 
his son a substantial sum of money, and turns him 
out of his house. 

Pauline, too, leaves her home in a mysterious and 
sudden fashion, without telling any one where she 
is going. The death of her father, M. de Char- 
milles, quickly follows. Beauvais drinks himself 
stupid every night, and Spends his days doggedly 
hunting for Pauline, who, he feels sure, has hidden 
herself in the loathsome slums in which Paris 
abounds. And in time he does meet her, but long 
before this he encounters her seducer, Silvion 
Guidel, and, after a mad struggle, throttles him, 
and casts the corpse into the Seine. 

The murder is not traced home to Beauvais, who 
drinks more deeply than ever of the deadly ab- 
sinthe, and becomes more surely its slave with 
every draught. Gessonex, the disreputable artist 
who introduced him to this form of vice, ends his 
failure of a career by shooting himself on the pave- 



120 Marie Corelli 

ment outside of a cafe after one of these carousals, 
and it is while Beauvais is visiting the artist's grave 
that he at last sets eyes on Pauline, kneeling by the 
tomb of the De Charmilles. For he cannot mistake 
the figure crouching by that closed door : "• She was 
slight, and clad in poorest garments — the evening 
wind blew her thin shawl about her like a gossamer 
sail, — but the glimmer of the late sunlight glistened 
on a tress of nut-brown hair that had escaped from 
its coils and fell loosely over her shoulders, — and 
my heart beat thickly as 1 looked,— I knew— I felt 
that woman was Pauline! " 

When he endeavors to track her to her lodgings, 
however, she unconsciously eludes him, and he 
obtains no clue as to where she may be found. 

Weeks go by, and Beauvais swallows more and 
more absinthe by way of deadening thought and 
feeling. The insidious poison is beginning to tell 
on his brain. At times he is seized by the notion 
that everything about him is of absurdly abnormal 
proportions, or the reverse. " Men and women 
would, as 1 looked at them, suddenly assume the 
appearance of monsters both in height and breadth, 
and again, would reduce themselves in the twin- 
kling of an eye to the merest pigmies." So, while 
the absintheur' s brain and body decline, the 
summer fades into autumn, and he is still looking 



•' Wormwood " and '* The Soul of Lilith "121 

for Pauline. At length, one dismal November 
evening, whilst wandering home in his usual 
heavily drugged condition, he hears a woman 
singing in one of the by-streets. She is singing a 
well-known convent chant, the " Guardian Angel": 

" f^tens sur ton aile, Angefidele 
Prendre mon coeur ! 
C'est le plus ardent de mes vceux ; — 

Pres de Marie 
Place-mot bientot dans les cieux I 
O guide aimable, sois favorable 
A mon desir 
Et viens finir 
Ma triste vie 
Avec Marie ! " 

It is Pauline at last! Then the absinthe tells its 
tale, and Beauvais completes his scheme of venge- 
ance. With cold-blooded ferocity he confesses 
that he has slain her lover, whereupon the desolate 
girl, the hopes she had fostered of meeting Silvion 
again being forever shattered, buries her woes in 
the dark bosom of the river of sighs. 

Beauvais haunts the Morgue for two days, and 
his patience is rewarded. Here is a piece of 
description which, in its way, is perfect: 

"An afternoon came when 1 saw the stretcher 
carried in from the river's bank with more than 



122 Marie Corelli 

usual pity and reverence, — and I, pressing in with 
the rest of the morbid spectators, saw the fair, soft, 
white body of the woman I had loved and hated 
and maddened and driven to her death, laid out on 
the dull hard slab of stone like a beautiful figure of 
frozen snow. The river had used her tenderly — 
poor little Pauline! — it had caressed her gently and 
had not disfigured her delicate limbs or spoilt her 
pretty face; — she looked so wise, so sweet and 
calm, that I fancied the cold and muddy Seine must 
have warmed and brightened to the touch of her 
drowned beauty! 

**Yes! — the river had fondled her! — had stroked 
her cheeks and left them pale and pure, — had kissed 
her lips and closed them in a childlike, happy 
smile, — had swept all her soft hair back from the 
smooth white brow just to show how prettily the 
blue veins were penciled under the soft transparent 
skin, — had closed the gentle eyes and deftly pointed 
the long dark lashes in a downward sleepy'fringe, — 
and had made of one little dead girl so wondrous 
and piteous a picture, that otherwise hard-hearted 
women sobbed at sight of it, and strong men 
turned away with hushed footsteps and moistened 
eyes." 

And that, practically, is the end of the story, for 
Gaston Beauvais, having revenged himself on his 
sweetheart and her betrayer, has nought to do now 
save drink absinthe. Delirium tremens ensues, 
Beauvais is laid up for a month, and at the end of 
that period the doctor speaks plain words of wis- 
dom and warning to him: 

"You must give it up," he said decisively, *'at 



" Wormwood " and " The Soul of Lilith " 1 23 

once, — and forever. It is a detestable habit, — a 
horrible craze of the Parisians, who are positively 
deteriorating in blood and brain by reason of their 
passion for this poison. What the next generation 
will be, I dread to think! I know it is a difficult 
business to break off anything to which the system 
has grown accustomed, — but you are still a young 
man, and you cannot be too strongly warned 
against the danger of continuing in your present 
course of life. Moral force is necessary, — and you 
must exert it. I have a large medical practice, and 
cases like yours are alarmingly common, and as 
much on the increase as morphinomania amongst 
women; but 1 tell you frankly, no medicine can do 
good where the patient refuses to employ his own 
power of resistance. I must ask you, therefore, for 
your own sake, to bring all your will to bear on the 
effort to overcome this fatal habit of yours, as a 
matter of duty and conscience." 

But the physician's admonition falls on heedless 
ears. Beauvais returns to the alluring glass, and 
the book ends with the confession that he is a con- 
firmed absintheur — "a thing more abject than the 
lowest beggar that crawls through Paris whining 
for a soul— a slinking, shuffling beast, half monkey, 
half man, whose aspect is so vile, whose body is so 
shaken with delirium, whose eyes are so murder- 
ous, that if you met me by chance in the daytime, 
you would probably shriek for sheer alarm ! " 

Such is the graphic and terrible picture drawn by 
Marie Corelli of the effects of this iniquitous 
draught. If Beauvais had not been tempted by 



124 Marie Corelli 

Gessonex to taste it, it is not probable that Paul- 
ine's piteous confession would have resulted in 
such wholesale tragedy; for Heloise St. Cyr, the 
sweet woman-friend of the bride-elect's, dies, too, 
and so an entire happy household is destroyed by 
reason of one man's uncontrollable savagery. 

Had Beauvais never put his lips to the fatal 
glass, he would in all probability, on hearing what 
had befallen his sweetheart, have quietly broken off 
the match. For, it must be remembered, he was 
a respectable young banker, of sober mien and 
quiet ways, not a Bohemian and frequenter of 
all-night cafes. But he tasted absinthe, and so 
brought about his undoing, as many another young 
Parisian is bringing it about at the present day. 
Here is the novelist's fierce denunciation of the 
vice: 

"Paris, steeped in vice and drowned in luxury, 
feeds her brain on such loathsome literature as 
might make even coarse-mouthed Rabelais and 
Swift recoil. Day after day, night after night, the 
absinthe-drinkers crowd the cafes, and swill the 
pernicious drug that of all accursed spirits ever 
brewed to make of man a beast, does most swiftly 
fly to the seat of reason to there attack and dethrone 
it; — and yet, the rulers do nothing to check the 
spreading evil, — the world looks on, purblind as 
ever and selfishly indifferent, — and the hateful cancer 
eats on into the breast of France, bringing death 
closer every day! " 



" Wormwood " and " The Soul of Lilith " 1 25 

'* Wormwood " is undoubtedly a work of genius 
—a strange, horrible book, yet fraught with a 
tremendous moral. The story of inhuman venge- 
ance goes swiftly on, without a stop or stay; one 
feels that the little bride-girl is doomed, that the 
priest must die, that unutterable misery must be the 
final lot of all the actors in the story. 

Marie Corelli does not overstate the case when she 
declares that absinthe has taken a grim and cancer- 
ous hold of Paris. It is called for in the cafH as 
naturally as we, in London, order a ** small" or 
"large" Bass. But what a difference in the two 
beverages! A French writer of authority says that 
fifteen per cent, of the French army are rendered 
incapable by the use of absinthe. 

The bulk of the French populace drinks either 
hock or light wine, and it takes a fairly large 
amount of either to produce intoxication. In 
England the populace drinks draught ale or whiskey. 
Comparing the two peoples and their behavior — 
for example — on public holidays, we must allow 
that the French are by far the more sober nation. 
But in London we have not — except in one or two 
West-End ^a/^'s— this dreadful absinthe, and we 
may well be thankful that the drinking of it has 
not grown upon us as it has grown upon the 
Parisians. 



126 Marie Corelli 

Could not Marie Corelli turn the heavy guns of 
her genius on the drink question this side of the 
Channel! The field is a very wide one. Children 
under fourteen are now prevented by law from 
being served at public-houses. It would be a good 
plan, too, if women could not order intoxicants 
from grocers. Many a man, in discharging his 
grocer's account, does not trouble to inspect the 
items, or is not afforded the chance of inspecting 
them ; many a man, however, if he were to submit 
his grocer's book to a close scrutiny, would find 
that bottles of inferior wines and spirits were being 
supplied along with the raisins and baking-powder 
not for his own, the cook's, or his family's use, but 
for the secret consumption of his wife. 

In suggesting new legislative measures with 
regard to the sale of intoxicants in this country, 
Marie Corelli would be performing a public service 
worthy of the Nation's profoundest gratitude. 

** The Soul of Lilith," which was published about 
a year after ** Wormwood," is a work of a very 
different character. This book treats of a subject in 
which Marie Corelli revels. As a brief introductory 
note explains, "The Soul of Lilith" does not 
assume to be what is generally understood by a 
"novel," being simply the account ** of a strange 



"Wormwood" and "The Soul of Lilith'* 127 

and daring experiment once actually attempted," 
and offered to those who are interested in the un- 
seen possibilities of the Hereafter. It is the story 
of a man "who voluntarily sacrificed his whole 
worldly career in a supreme effort to prove the ap- 
parently Unprovable." 

This persistent probing on Marie Corelli's part 
of what most writers shun and very few have ever 
attempted to solve, is one of the secrets of her great 
sales. Turn to page 319 of **The Soul of Lilith," 
and you will find the matter put neatly in a nut- 
shell: 

*• And so it happens that when wielders of the pen 
essay to tell us of wars; of shipwrecks, of hair- 
breadth escapes from danger, of love and politics 
and society, we read their pages with merely tran- 
sitory pleasure and frequent indifference, but when 
they touch upon subjects beyond earthly experience 
— when they attempt, however feebly, to lift our 
inspirations to the possibilities of the Unseen, then 
we give them our eager attention and almost pas- 
sionate interest." 

This passage may afford a little light to those 
people who are forever declaring that they cannot 
understand what other people can see in Marie 
Corelli. The fact is, Marie Corelli appeals to a 
tremendous section of the public — a section in 
which, we are assured, the fair sex does not pre- 



128 Marie Corelli 

dominate. Indeed, the majority of the novelist's 
correspondents are men. Marie Corelli is intensely 
in earnest, imaginative, and passionate. She lets 
her reader know, before she has covered many 
pages, precisely what her book is to be about, and 
in this way she spares one the irritation excited by 
those old-fashioned writers who used to drone on 
for chapter after chapter, making headway in an 
exasperatingly slow and cumbrous fashion. 

Then it must be taken into consideration that 
there is a very big public which has practically 
nothing to do except eat meals, sleep, take exercise, 
and read novels. Such people are necessarily more 
introspective than busy folk, and many of them are 
exceedingly anxious as to what will become of them 
when it shall please Providence to put an end to 
their aimless existence in this vale of smiles and 
tears. Marie Corelli supplies them with ample food 
for thought and argument. 

Perhaps all these attempts to solve the Unsolva- 
ble have a morbid tendency; a little simple faith is 
certainly more salutary. However that may be, a 
very great public regards such attempts as more 
engrossing reading-matter than tales **of love and 
politics and society " ; and a still stronger reason for 
Marie Corelli's immense popularity is to be found in 
the fact that she is the only female Richmond in 



" Wormwood " and " The Soul of Lilith " 1 29 

the field. She sits on a splendidly isolated throne, a 
writer whose genius has enabled her to soar to cer- 
tain peculiar heights which no other literary man or 
woman has succeeded in scaling. 

"The Soul of Lilith," as we have inferred, dis- 
plays its author in her element. It is a work 
which, from its nature, may be classed with "A 
Romance of Two Worlds " and " Ardath." It pos- 
sesses the same mystic properties, the same specu- 
lative endeavors to obtain knowledge that is denied 
to mortals. 

**/ have kept one human creature alive and in 
perfect health for six years on that vital fluid 
alone.'* 

This is the kernel of the story, which narrates 
how El-Rami, a man of Arabian origin, possessing 
many of the mysteriously occult powers peculiar to 
the Indian fakir, injects a certain fluid into the still 
warm veins of a dead Egyptian girl-child called 
Lilith. In this way he preserves her body in a liv- 
ing condition, and the success of his experiment is 
proved by the fact that Lilith passes from childhood 
to womanhood whilst in this state, and answers 
questions put to her by El-Rami. 

It is the desire of El-Rami, however, to make 
himself master of Lilith's soul as well as of her 



130 Marie Corelli 

body, and this impious object leads to the destruc- 
tion of the fair form he has preserved and of his 
own reason. For he falls in love with Lilith, and 
the declaration of his passion is followed by her 
crumbling away to dust. The shock to his highly 
strung organization results in his mental collapse, 
and from this he never recovers. 

There are many passages of wild beauty and ex- 
traordinary power in this story, which occupies 
many pages in the telling before the superbly dra- 
matic denouement is reached. Heliobas, the wise 
physician of "A Romance of Two Worlds," but 
now turned monk, is introduced into the story, and 
warns El-Rami that his atheistic experiment will 
prove fruitless : 

" How it is that you have not foreseen this thing 
I cannot imagine,"— continued the monk. "The 
body of Lilith has grown under your very eyes 
from the child to the woman by the merest material 
means, — the chemicals which Nature gives us, and 
the forces which Nature allows us to employ. How 
then should you deem it possible for the Soul to re- 
main stationary } With every fresh experience its 
form expands, — its desires increase, — its knowledge 
widens, — and the everlasting necessity of Love com- 

Eels its life to Love's primeval source. The Soul of 
ilith is awakening to its fullest immortal conscious- 
ness, — she realizes her connection with the great 
angelic worlds — her kindredship with those worlds' 
inhabitants, and, as she gains this glorious knowl- 
edge more certainly, so she gains strength. And 



"Wormwood" and "The Soul of Lilith" 131 

this is the result I warn you of — her force will soon 
baffle yours, and you will have no more influence 
over her than you have over the highest Archangel 
in the realms of the Supreme Creator." 

El-Rami reminds Heliobas that it is only a 
woman's soul that he is striving for — ** how should 
it baffle mine ? Of slighter character — of more 
sensitive balance — and always prone to yield, — 
how should it prove so strong? Though, of 
course, you will tell me that Souls, like Angels, 
are sexless." 

The monk repudiates such a suggestion. "All 
created things have sex," he declares, "even the 
angels. * Male and Female created He them ' — rec- 
ollect that, — when it is s^id God made Man in * His 
Own Image.' " 

"What! Is it possible you would endow God 
Himself with the Feminine attributes as well as the 
Masculine?" cries El-Rami, in astonishment. 

"There are two governing forces of the Uni- 
verse," replied the monk deliberately; "one, the 
masculine, is Love, — the other, feminine, is Beauty. 
These Two, reigning together, are God; — just as 
man and wife are One. From Love and Beauty 
proceed Law and Order. You cannot away with it 
— it is so. Love and Beauty produce and reproduce 
a million forms with more than a million variations, 
and when God made Man in His Own Image it was 
as Male and Female. From the very first growths 
of life in all worlds, — from the small, almost im- 



132 Marie Corelli 

perceptible beginning of that marvelous evolution 
which resulted in Humanity, — evolution which to 
us is calculated to have taken thousands of years, 
whereas in the eternal countings it has occupied but a 
few moments, — Sex was proclaimed in the lowliest 
sea-plants, of which the only remains we have are 
in the Silurian formations, — and was equally main- 
tained in the humblest lingula inhabiting its simple 
bivalve shell. Sex is proclaimed throughout the 
Universe with an absolute and unswerving regu- 
larity through all grades of nature. Nay, there are 
even male and female Atmospheres which when 
combined produce forms of life." 



The verbal duel between Heliobas, the man of 
God, and El-Rami, the man of Science, is exceed- 
ingly well-written. In the course of their conver- 
sation El-Rami opines that Heliobas is more of a 
poet than either a devotee or a scientist. The 
monk's rejoinder is worth quoting: 



"Perhaps I am! Yet poets are often the best 
scientists, because they never know they are scien- 
tists. They arrive by a sudden intuition at the facts 
which it takes several Professors Dry-as-Dust years 
to discover. When once you feel you are a scien- 
tist, it is all over with you. You are a clever biped 
who has got hold of a crumb out of the universal 
loaf, and for all your days afterwards you are turn- 
ing that crumb over and over under your analytical 
lens. But a poet takes up the whole loaf uncon- 
sciously, and hands portions of it about at hap- 
hazard and with the abstracted behavior of one m 
a dream." 



"Wormwood" and "The Soul of Lilith" 133 

In spite,' however, of Heliobas' warning words, 
El-Rami proceeds with his experiment, which ends 
as recorded. The scientist is taken by his brother 
Feraz — a poetically conceived character — to a mon- 
astery in Cyprus, where he lives in placid content- 
ment. Here he is visited by some English friends, 
who sum up his condition and suggest a simple 
remedy for others inclined to pursue similar re- 
searches in a way that strikes one as singularly 
practical : 

** He always went into things with such terrible 
closeness, did El-Rami,"— said Sir Frederick after a 
pause; ** no wonder his brain gave way at last. 
You know you can't keep on asking the why, why, 
why of everything without getting shut up in the 
long run." 

*M think we were not meant to ask 'why' at 
all," said Irene slowly; ''we are made to accept 
and believe that everything is for the best." 

And surely the gentle rejoinder of Irene is one 
that should silence controversy, dissipate vain spec- 
ulation, and bring peace and rest to many thousands 
of minds which are wearied with attempts " to 
prove the apparently Unprovable." 



CHAPTER VII 
MR. bentley's encouragement— some letters of an 

OLD publisher 

When Solomon was at the zenith of his glory the 
number of people who could read must have been 
extremely limited, and yet that monarch — whose 
methods of administering justice may compare, in 
point of brevity and common sense, with those of 
the late Mr. Commissioner Kerr — is known to have 
commented on the never-ceasing literary output of 
his generation. 

We may take it, then, that from the earliest times 
the supply of books has always exceeded the de- 
mand — when Israel had kings there must have been 
publishers, and from that era to the days of Byron 
(and, possibly, in subsequent times) there must have 
been robbers among them. 

The young and aspiring writer has probably 
trodden a thorny path in his pursuit of fame at all 
stages of literary history; for, dealing only with the 
facts of yesterday and to-day, the scribe of tender 
years, after successfully arranging for the publica- 
134 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 135 

tion of his work has still had the vitriolic condem- 
nation of the jealous critic to contend with. 

There have been occasional straightforward ar- 
ticles in the literary journals on the ethics of criti- 
cism, and now and then a writer of note and influ- 
ence has come forward with a word in behalf of 
the literary pilgrim, who, however, still goes on his 
way having no real weapon of defense save his 
native ability— and in Marie Corelli's case this has 
proved to be a very sharp weapon indeed! 

How Mr. Bentley first became acquainted with 
Miss Corelli has already been described in the chap- 
ter on '• A Romance of Two Worlds." When Mr. 
Bentley paid his first call on her, he found her, to 
his astonishment, a mere schoolgirl. It was alto- 
gether a novel experience to him to have dealings 
with a writer who was at once so youthful and so 
gifted, and the attitude he adopted towards her 
from that time onwards was benignly paternal. 

Marie Corelli has never employed a literary agent, 
and fails to see why a writer should not manage his 
or her own business affairs without any such extra- 
neous assistance. In some respects we ourselves 
are of the opinion that the agent is an undesirable 
" middleman," he being far too apt to hold out glit- 
tering awards which lure authors on to work above 
their normal pace; but it must be borne in mind 



136 Marie Corelli 

that there are many authors who are poor hands at 
haggling over terms with publishers and editors, 
and, in such cases, the literary agent proves of 
great service. 

No gentleman of this order, then, came between 
Miss Corelli and Mr. Bentley after the successful 
appearance of the "Romance;" terms for future 
work were arranged to the mutual satisfaction of 
author and publisher; and book after book, under 
these genial auspices, was steadily written, each 
new volume serving still more fully to substantiate 
the high opinion Mr. Bentley formed of Miss Co- 
relli's abilities after reading her first manuscript. 

Shortly after the publication of ''The Soul of 
Lilith " Mr. George Bentley retired from active par- 
ticipation in the business of his firm (which was 
subsequently incorporated with the house of Mac- 
millan), and Miss Corelli transferred her books to 
Messrs. Methuen. Hereunder is a list of the novel- 
ist's works published by Messrs. Bentley : 

" A Romance of Two Worlds," Published 1886 



Vendetta," 
Thelma," 
Ardath," 
Wormwood," 
The Soul of Lilith, 



1887 
1888 
1889 
1890, 
1892 



Portions of some of the many letters written to 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 137 

the author of these works by her publisher we have 
already quoted. We will now proceed to give a 
selection of extracts from others. The reader will 
not fail to observe how happily cordial— affection- 
ate, almost — were the relations of these two — the 
gray-headed publisher and the young lady novelist. 
The first of our selection has to do with "Ar- 
dath," which Mr. Bentley had been reading in 
manuscript form : 

''Marched, 1889. 

** You have been very patient and considerate, 
and I think you believed that 1 would not lose any 
time in reading your Romance, for a Romance it is, 
and a most original one. / have read it all, that is, 
to 964. I should like to ^ee the conclusion. 

" The story of Al-Kyris is a magnificent dream, 
the product of a rich imagination, the story rising 
towards the close to considerable power. The de- 
sign, the method, the treatment, all are original, 
and the fancy has an Eastern richness, and, 1 pre- 
sume, a legitimate basis in fact. 



" There is so much in the work that I could write 
yards upon yards about it. The fine drawing of 
Sah-Luma, its consistency, and the moral taught by 
him; the character of Lysia, typifying Lust; that of 
poor Niphrata, of the King, and the finely conceived 
character of Theos; the scenes, one after the other, 
in rapid succession, ending in the fall of Al-Kyris, 
should give you a status as a writer of no ordinary 
character. 



138 Marie Corelli 

"There can be no doubt that it is a most unusual 
work, a daring and sustained flight of the imagina- 
tion. You will have to rest after it, for some of 
your life has gone into it." 

''March 14th, 1889. 

" You must bear in mind that in giving an opin- 
ion I am bound to have an eye upon what I deem 
defect, rightly or wrongly. I have no need to call 
your attention to merits — if I had, I could write a 
quarto letter on the merits of Al-Kyris, in which I 
include, by the way, the beautiful scene on Ardath, 
and the first introduction of Edris. So in the epi- 
logue 1 quite agree with your critic in his high ad- 
miration of the Cathedral scene, and the reappear- 
ance of Edris. 



"Please do what you wish — you may be quite 
right and I wrong. I shall be very glad to be wrong, 
as 1 sincerely desire your success, because you have 
a worthy motive and an honorable ambition in writ- 
ing, and not any lower aim competing with your 
Art-Love. 



"I enter into your feelings about being 'passed 
over,' but I observe that reputations which grow 
gradually and always grow, come to compel atten- 
tion at some time or other." 

It would appear from the next letter that the 
novelist had been throwing out a hint that the 
doughty knights of Grub Street might be ap- 
proached with a preface of a nature to make them 
pause ere they ground her latest work under heel. 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 139 

Mr. Bentley's letter in reply, like that which follows 
it, is redolent of his sturdy independence and sound 
common sense. 

*' April 21 St, 1889. 

"As to an appeal to critics, 1 never make one. 
No good book, that is a really literary production, 
should require it, and any other sort of book doesn't 
deserve it." 

** May 27th, 1889. 

" The criticism will do no harm, though it may 
exercise some in trying to understand how the 
blowing hot and cold can be reconciled. For years 
almost the whole Press regularly attacked Miss 
Broughton, and 1 have often said that in a long 
business life 1 have never known any one so decried 
as she was by the Press, \vho yet had the good for^ 
tune to see the public set aside the verdict of the 
critics. May the public so deal with you, and leave 
the critics to their isolation." 

The following was written after Mr. Gladstone's 
first visit to the novelist. It should be explained 
that Mr. Gladstone, when he first called, found Miss 
Corelli "out," and was afterwards invited by her 
to come to tea on a particular date: 

'* June 4th, 1889. 

" I do indeed congratulate you on bringing the 
man (Gladstone), who is in all men's mouths, to 
your feet, and that, too, simply by your writings. 
I know you will be charmed with him, and he with 
you. That is a safe prophecy. You will find him 



140 Marie Corelli 

delightfully eloquent, various in knowledge, and 
highly appreciative." 

And again, on the same topic: 

"Upton, Slough, Bucks, 
''June 6th, 1889. 

" How very kind of you to write to me the very 
interesting account of your interview with Mr, 
Gladstone! 

"It is an event of your life, an event of which 
you may well be proud, because the interview 
arises from his interest in the product of your brain 
and heart. It does him honor that he should thus 
seek to form the acquaintance of one whom he be- 
lieves to be possibly moulding public opinion in re- 
ligious matters. 

"I do most heartily congratulate you, because, in 
the history of your life, such an interview hence- 
forth becomes a bit of your career, as Fox's conver- 
sations with the poet Rogers forms an interesting 
and valuable episode in Rogers' life." 

The following are characteristic of Mr. Bentley's 
opinions and frame of mind. The conclusion of 
the letter written in October is pleasantly John- 
sonian: 

''June nth, 1889. 

"Genius recognizes genius; it is only mediocrity 
which is jealous. Genius is too full of richness to 
want others' laurels." 

"October 14th, 1889, 

" I shall very gladly give the matter my best at- 
tention, as I need not add that my literary associa- 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 141 

tion with you is a source both of pleasure and pride 
to me. At any rate 1 feel a pride and pleasure in 
publishing for an author who loves her work, and 
does it not primarily for money, but for fame, and 
because she can't help the bubbling over of her rich 
imagination. When I get to London, one of my 
first visits will be to you. Real conversation is 
delightful and refreshing, and the idle talk of the 
• crushes ' is weariness of the flesh and death to the 
spirit. You, who aim at higher things, have an 
ideal; you who, thank God, believe this world to 
be a stepping-stone to one of immeasurable supe- 
riority, must often have asked yourself, after one of 
the great assemblies to which you went or where 
you received— C«z bono? Yes, if the weather 
keeps decent, I will with the greatest pleasure re- 
fresh my mind with some converse with you." 

Now occurs an interval of ten months, and then 
the manuscript of " Wormwood " evokes the fol- 
lowing sentiments: 

" August ph, 1890. 

"Dear Thelma,— Of the power in your latest 
work there can be no doubt. The interest com- 
mences immediately, and is on the increase through- 
out. The grip you have of the story is extraordi- 
nary, and will react upon the reader, ensuring 
success." 

'' September ^th, 1890. 

" The public, however, may forgive you for the 
extraordinary power of some of the scenes, which 
haunt me now, though it is a month since I read 
them." 



142 Marie Corelli 

" October pth, 1890. 

"When you are on the eve of a remarkable suc- 
cess in the making or marring of which a few days 
can have no part, it is a little unreasonable that you 
should take so gloomy a view. I await with confi- 
dence the happier feeling which I feel certain is 
to succeed these darker moments, and am, as 
ever. . . ." 

" October 20th, i8go. 

*'\ feel very confident of a great run upon your 
book. Power is what the public never refuses to 
recognize." 

" October 24th, i8go. 

" You so distrust yourself, that you believe your 
success hangs upon arts which belonged to publish- 
ers who existed in the days of Lady Charlotte 
Bury, whereas you have a right to presume that the 
public need nothing more than to know a novel of 
yours is at the libraries. 

I* *l* •!* ■!• *I* I* 

*'Once more, believe a little more in yourself." 

" November J d, i8po. 

"I have just had a debate about 'Wormwood' 
with one of the leading critics of the day, who was 
complaining of the gloom which overspread the 
book. 

" 'Well,' said I, 'you cannot deny that none but 
a person who had genius could have written that 
work.' 

*' ' Genius is a big word, but yet I think you are 
right in this case,' replied the critic. 

" I know I am." 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 143 

" November lyth, i8po. 

" The Athenoeum review, to dignify it with that 
name, is the barest outline of the story. It points 
to what, I believe, is the real cause, — a doubt in the 
writer's mind whether an attack would not stultify 
the attacker. He recognizes the power, I am cer- 
tain, but won't give you the meed of praise for it." 

" March ist, 1891. 

"The Spectator is very savage on 'Wormwood' 
this week, but speaks of the force and power of 
your imagination." 

" October 17th, i8pi. 

"But you must not complain; your recognition, 
though much slower, is more and more a fact. 
Your reputation to-day is higher by a good way 
than it was two years ago, as the demand for your 
works indicates. Be true to yourself, and only 
write when the impulse is irresistible, and all will 
be well with little Thelma." 

The first part of the next letter has reference 
to "The Soul of Lilith." Following it are further 
remarks about "Ardath," which, of all Marie Co- 
relli's books, seems to have taken the greatest hold 
on Mr. Bentley. 

" November 4th, 1891. 

"1 am glad to hear of your successful progress 
with your new story. I get quite curious as the 
time approaches. One cannot feel with you as 
with most authors, that we know what is coming. 
Every new story is a new departure. 



144 Marie Corelli 

" I had a charming letter from Herr Poorten 
Schwartz (Maarten Maartens) in which he speaks in 
glowing terms of ' Ardath,' which he had just been 
reading. He says the description of Al-Kyris is 
a magnificent effort of the imagination, in which 1 
entirely agree, and 1 rank the description in richness 
of conception with Beckford's famous * Hall of 
Eblis.' So far, I think it is your greatest height 
of imaginative conception — ^just as in * Wormwood,' 
much as it repels me in parts, 1 cannot but recog- 
nize the tremendous dramatic force of many of the 
scenes." 

*' January jdy i8p2. 

" I can say truthfully that I have not known any 
writer bear success better than you do, and may 
you be put to the test for a long time to come. 



"I like much to hear you say, *As long as my 
brain under God's guidance will serve me.' It is an 
age when such an observation is by no means an 
ordinary one, yet 1 doubt whether the genius of 
any writer attains its full scope unless it listen 
to His voice." 

*' January 29th, 1892. 

" • Good wine needs no bush,' and I am averse to 
associating your name or mine with a system of 
vulgar exploitation. 

"What do Dickens, Thackeray, George Eliot, 
Collins, or Besant owe to exploitation, and how 
long do the reputations survive which are built 
on this mushroom bed ? " 

The following alludes to the publication of a new 
edition of the work mentioned: 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 145 

" March i6th, i8p2, 

"Dear impulsive, warm-hearted Thelma,— 

"Tell me what 1 am to give you for Thelma} 
1 should like to gratify your wish. Your pros- 
perity and success you know 1 rejoice at, and I trust 
your belief of a short life is only the outcome of one 
of those wistful sad moments, which come to 
all who are richly endowed with imagination." 

''April nth, 1892. 

"So cheer up, little Thelma; you have youth and 
imagination, and love your art, and have the will to 
work. So you have the world before you, and 
ought to die a rich woman, if that is worth living 
for." 

*' April 1 6th, 1892. 

* ' Dear Little Lady,— • 

"It makes me feel uncomfortable to hear of 
brave little Thelma being half killed, like Keats, for 
a review. 

"Pooh! stuff and nonsense! You are not to be 
snuffed out by any notice. As to not writing 
again, you will live to write many a good book 
yet. 

" Laugh at the review, and don't notice it to any 
of your friends. You have a good spirit of your 
own, and you don't need to be crushed, and neither 
will you be. You will be the first to laugh this day 
six months for having been temporarily disquieted. 

" As to Law! Oh, lor! Wouldn't your enemies, 
if you have any, rejoice to see you at loggerheads 
with the Press ? No, no, that wouldn't do. 

"You can firmly rely on your gifts to render 

* Meaning, what terms for a new edition. 



146 Marie Corelli 

nugatory all attacks upon you of the nature of the 
present. Let me hear that Thelma's herself again. 
"Yours sincerely, 

''George Bentley." 



" May 4th, 1892. 

"The attacks do not daunt me, and it seems 
to me that three out of the four are by one hand." 

" Upton, Slough, 

''May jyth, 1892. 
" Dear Thelma, — 

" I am right glad at the news in your letter. 
I am sure you will now see that the late attacks on 
' Lilith' will derive their importance only when you 
notice them. Even from those who do not like 
highly imaginative literature, 1 have heard the re- 
mark that the reviews in question were entirely one- 
sided, and left one to suppose that the English public 
was cracked in running after a writer without a 
solitary merit. 



" Put together the talents of all your critics, and 
ask them to paint the city of Al-Kyris. That came 
out of a finely sustained vision, your intense inter- 
est in your subject keeping it at a white heat. I 
reckon two-thirds of * Ardath ' as one of the finest 
contributions to imaginative literature which this 
country possesses. 



"Never write a line if the humor is not in you. 
It is that impulsion to write because you can't help 
it, which carries you away, and, for that reason, 
carries away your reader." 




What Becomes of the Press Cuttings 




i ■ 
Marie Corelli's Pet Yorkshire Terrier ** Czar 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 147 

'' August 2gth, i8p2, 

"Mille felicitations! Thelma, I hope you will 
keep a diary, which, though it will not be pub- 
lished in my day, and I shan't read it, will some 
day give interesting glimpses into the social life 
of this last decade of the nineteenth century. 



" That is a good trait in you that you love your 
work, and as long as you do, take it from an 
old publisher, the public will like it. Once write as 
a machine, and the decline is assured. 

"1 hope and expect that you will like the Prince 
of Wales. Gambetta thought highly of him, and 
your wit will draw out his." 

"October 4th, 1892. 

"I wish you were more assured on this point. 
Such a creation as ' Ardath ' will not be again m our 
time. It assures your position amongst all those 
whose opinion is worth having, as surely as Beck- 
ford is remembered to this day by the * Hall of 
Eblis.' " 

The next (undated) was written just after Queen 
Victoria desired that all Marie Corelli's works 
should be sent to her: — 

"Bravo! Bravissimo!! dear Thelma, as one used 
to cry out in my old opera days, when the glorious 
Grisi denounced Pollio in Norma. 1 rejoice at your 
being recognized all round by Scotch Duchess and 
Australian wool merchant, and 1 hope it may be that 
Her Most Gracious Majesty will enjoy a trip into the 
two worlds of her bright little subject's creation, 
wherein the subject is Queen and the Queen her 
subject." 



148 Marie Corelli 

''October 28th, 1892. 

"I was unable to write and tell you how glad I 
am that you are once more yourself again. 

"Bother the papers; don't let them bother you. 
If I lived next door to you, 1 should intercept them 
all. 



"It seems a growing fashion to use strong lan- 
guage, and certainly such language has been leveled 
at you. The fair sex in former days were held to 
command a chivalrous respect, which seems to be 
almost as much a thmg of the past as the Crusades." 

This of October 28th, 1892, forms the last of the 
batch of extracts placed in our hands. Through- 
out his business associations with Miss Corelli, it is 
apparent that Mr. Bentley was everything that was 
kindly, tactful, and encouraging. The imaginative 
temperament is always a difficult one to deal with, 
and Mr. Bentley excelled himself in this respect. 
Even when he wished to bestow a mild rebuke he 
did so with an old-fashioned courtesy that is truly 
delightful and only too rare in these days of dic- 
tated, typewritten epistles. 

There are other letters, but from these it will be 
only necessary to cull a sentence here and there. 
All the above-quoted communications, we should 
add, were in Mr. Bentley's own handwriting. 

Marie Corelli has always been a neat workwoman, 
and here, in a letter from her publisher, dated Au- 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 149 

gust 28th, 1886, we find a tribute to the perfection 
of her *' copy:" — 

"The printers report that, owing to the fewness of 
the corrections and the clearness with which they 
are made, revises will be unnecessary, which will 
be a great gain in time, as well as a saving of ex- 
pense." 

Vice versd, one calls to mind a tale of Miss Mar- 
tineau's about Carlyle, who literally smothered his 
proof-sheets with corrections. One day he went to 
the office to urge on the printer. "Why, sir," said 
the latter, " you really are so very hard upon us with 
your corrections. They take so much time, you 
seel" Carlyle replied that he had been accustomed 
to this sort of thing — he had got works printed in 

Scotland, and "Yes, indeed, sir," rejoined the 

printer, "we are aware of that. We have a man 
here from Edinburgh, and when he took up a bit of 
your copy, he dropped it as if it had burnt his fin- 
gers, and cried out, 'Lord, have mercy! have you 
got that man to print for ? Lord knows when we 
shall get done with his corrections.' " 

It is evident that Mr. Bentley deemed his proUg^e 
— if we may so term her— capable of turning her 
pen in many directions. *M am not sure that you 
could not give us a fine historical novel," he wrote 
in 1887, " if you got hold of a character which fas- 
cinated your imagination." 



150 Marie Corelli 

In a letter dated May 7th, 1888, he refers playfully 
to *'the little blue silk dress" which seems to 
have taken his fancy on a previous occasion; nor 
did he forget the young novelist's birthday, for in a 
previous letter of the same year he declares that, if 
he were in London, he would " be tempted to cast 
prudence to the wind, even to the perilous East 
wind, to offer you my greeting on the first of 
May." 

Besides being a keen judge of manuscript — as, 
indeed, he had need to be— Mr. Bentley wrote very 
pleasant prose himself. His reading was extensive 
and his comments thereon lucid and thoughtful. In 
1883 he printed for private circulation among his 
friends a little green covered volume called "After 
Business." A copy of this work, presented to Miss 
Corelli a fortnight after Mr. Bentley first met her, 
lies before us. There are seven chapters, whose 
nature can be divined from their titles : I. An Even- 
ing with Erasmus. IV. How the World Wags. 
V. An Afternoon with Odd Volumes— and so forth. 
A peaceful, soothing little book is this. Here is the 
final passage of the ' ' Odd Volumes " chapter. It af- 
fords a happy example of the book's literary flavor, 
of its truly "After Business" characteristics: 

*' Let us say good-bye to these dear old volumes, 
and step down-stairs, that Lawrence's sister may 



Mr. Bentley's Encouragement 151 

give us orie of his favorite melodies. God provides 
good tilings for men in music and books and flow- 
ers, and when His fellow-men disappoint Him, or 
die around Him, it is something to be able to enjoy 
the melody of Mozart and to live with the grand old 
ghosts who, disembodied, flit about the old library." 

The influence of the kindly advice George Bent- 
ley dealt out to the young novelist cannot be over- 
estimated. Was she upset by a criticism, he came 
to her aid with good humored badinage and sym- 
pathy; was she despondent, he laughed away the 
mood and bade "Thelma"be herself again! Al- 
ways, indeed, he urged her to be herself— to embody 
in her books the message so nobly delivered by a 
poet: 

" Stand upright, speak thy thought, declare 
The truth thou hast, that all may share ; 
Be bold, proclaim it everywhere ; 
They only live who dare.'' 



CHAPTER VIII 

** BAR ABBAS "—A '* PASSION PLAY " IN PROSE 

" Why should women's writings be in any respect 
inferior to that of men if they are only willing to 
follow out the same method of self-education ? " 
asked Charles Kingsley. This was of the nature 
of a prophecy, for had Kingsley lived until to-day 
he would have seen the verification of his words. 
Women, as a rule, do not self-educate themselves. 
They will not try to walk alone. They under- 
stand only just the easy verse and rhyme of ex- 
istence. Some few understand to-day a higher 
phase by self-conviction. Marie Corelli is certainly 
one. 

To write prose, perfect prose; to stir the heart 
and move the soul, is the highest phase of mental 
reasoning. It is the air and melody of spiritual 
conception, the so-called "supernatural." All our 
lives we can talk prose, but to grasp tersely 
your brain's creation, to fix upon your different 
dream characters and embody them with life, with 
passion, and with naturalness— the naturalness 
which has existed from creation— is the highest 

153 



"Barabbas" 153 

prose, for it is poetry and prose hand-in-hand, an 
achievement, a oneness of the two. 

This was Marie Corelli's idea in penning 
"Barabbas." Setting her mind hard and fast to 
face creeds and defy criticism ; true to the instincts 
which permeated her mind throughout her pristine 
works, she went on following her soul impression, 
her inspiration to see "good" in most things, 
nobility in men and women who might be scourged 
by the world. And thus '* Barabbas," though a 
robber, might have had some strong points, and 
though of an evil nature must certainly, from 
scriptural evidence, have had the sympathy of the 
populace. That sympathy gave the author the 
keynote to produce the human drama, which is 
lived over and over again to-day and forever, — 
and which is aptly called A Dream of the World's 
Tragedy. 

Marie Corelli, true to her colors in this later 
work, still adheres to poetic spirituality, the 
"ideal," the sublime, the free, the sympathetic, 
mingled with the rendering of a forcible and 
traitorous character in that of ''Judith " (the heroine 
of the book) in its full strength of weakness and 
evil, and in its final magnificent revulsion from apast 
to the glory of a holy repentance and in finding the 
King, in the symbol of the cross. Take this scene, 



i_j4 Marie Corelli 

where after madness and despair, she meets her 
death: 



" The sun poured straightly down upon her, — she 
looked like a fair startled sylph in the amber glow 
of the burning Eastern noonday. Gradually an 
expression of surprise and then of rapture lighted 
her pallid face, — she lifted her gaze slowly, and, 
with seeming wonder and incredulity, fixed her 
eyes on the near grassy slope of the Mount of 
Olives, where two ancient fig-trees twining their 
gnarled boughs together made an arch of dark and 
soothing shade. Pointing thither with one hand, 
she smiled, — and once more her matchless beauty 
flashed up through form and face like a flame. 

' Lo there!* she exclaimed joyously, — 'how is 
it that ye could not find Him ? There is the 
King! ' 

"Throwing up her arms, she ran eagerly along a 
few steps, . . . tottered, . . . then fell 
face forward in the dust, and there lay; . . . 
motionless forever! She had prayed for the par- 
don of Judas, — she had sought, — and found — the 
'King!'" 



The conception of the character of "Judith" 
in " Barabbas " is fret with strong and sympathetic 
points. She is the mainspring of the work. The 
idea of the "Betrayal" emanates from her, yet 
the aesthetic treatment at the finale with the symbol 
of the cross, while closing her eyes in death, is 
poetry in itself. 

Listen to Peter's definition of a lie: 



"Barabbas" 155 

"The truth, the truth," cried Peter, tossing his 
arms about; "lo from henceforth I will clamor for 
it, rage for it, die for it! Three times have 1 
falsely sworn, and thus have I taken the full meas- 
ure of a Lie! Its breadth, its depth, its height, its 
worth, its meaning, its results, its crushing suffocat- 
ing weight upon the soul! I know its nature, — 'tis 
all hell in a word! 'tis a ' yea ' or * nay,' on which is 
balanced all eternity! I will no more of it, — I will 
have truth, the truth of men, the truth of women, — 
no usurer shall be called honest,— no wanton shall 
be called chaste,— to please the humor of the pass- 
ing hour! No — no, 1 will have none of this, but 
only truth! The truth that is seen as a shinmg, 
naked simitar in the hand of God, glistening 
horribly! I, Peter, will declare it! — I who did swear 
a lie three times, will speak the truth three thousand 
times in reprisal of my sin! Weep, rave, tear thy 
reverend hairs, unreverent Jew! Thou who as 
stiff-necked, righteous Pharisee, didst practice cau- 
tious virtue and self-seeking sanctity, and now 
through unbelief art left most desolate! " 



The critics were as usual up in arms over 
"Barabbas," but in spite of them its sale has been 
immense. The book has made such headway since 
its publication that it has been translated into more 
foreign tongues than any other novel of either the 
past or present— the translations comprising thirty 
to forty languages. As a matter of original con- 
ception, tragical effect and clearness of diction, 
"Barabbas" is considered by many the best of 
Marie Corelli's works. 



156 Marie Corelli 

In " Barabbas " there is no loitering by the way, 
as it were, to argue, although the moral throughout 
is strong enough. The author's sensibility grasps 
the situation of that potent day in the World's era 
with a subtle reasoning of how to-day things are 
precisely the same, and would be precisely the 
same at the advent of a new Christus, save possibly 
as regards the execution. For our lunatic asylums 
afford an infinitely better kind of torture than the 
cross. 

The character of Jesus of Nazareth, "the dreamy 
Young Philosopher " of his short day, is the poem 
of the tragedy. Barabbas himself is a character 
of much force, despite his weakness in the hands 
of Judith. The soliloquies of Melchior through- 
out the first part of the book are somewhat 
drastic, though the character bears out well its 
own mission. 

There is extreme spirituality in the sayings of this 
somewhat important creation. He might be the 
Cicero of the work. One of his replies to Barabbas, 
showing the vesture of his thoughts, occurs again 
thus: 

" If thou dost wait till thou canst * comprehend' 
the mysteries of the Divine Will, thou wilt need to 
grope through aeons upon aeons of eternal wonder, 
living a thinking life through all, and even then not 
reach the inner secret. Comprehendest thou how 



"Barabbas" 157 

the light finds its sure way to the dry seed in the 
depths of earth and causes it to fructify ? — or how, 
imprisoning itself within drops of water and grains 
of dust, it doth change these things of ordinary 
matter into diamonds which queens covet ? Thou 
art not able to 'comprehend' these simplest facts of 
simple nature, — and nature being but the outward 
reflex of God's thought, how should'st thou under- 
stand the workings of His interior Spirit which is 
Himself in all ? Whether He create a world, or 
breathe the living Essence of His own Divinity into 
aerial atoms to be absorbed in flesh and blood, and 
born as Man of virginal Woman, He hath the 
power supreme to do such things, if such be His 
great pleasure. Talkest thou of miracles ? — thou 
art thyself a miracle, — thou livest in a miracle,— the 
whole world is a miracle, and exists in spite of thee! 
Go thy ways, man; search out truth in thine own 
fashion; but if it should elude thee, blame not the 
truth which ever is, but thine own witlessness which 
cannot grasp it! " 

A terse reasoning out of the living essence of the 
supreme, and an almost matchless soliloquy. 
Here is another of Melchior's speeches: 

" Men are pigmies, — they scuttle away in droves 
before a storm or the tremor of an earthquake, — 
they are afraid of their lives. And what are their 
lives ? The lives of motes in a sunbeam, of gnats 
in a mist of miasma, — nothing more. And they 
will never be anything more, till they learn how to 
make them valuable. And that lesson will never be 
mastered save by the few." 

It was Marie Corelli's idea in this particular 



158 Marie Corelli 

work evidently to clothe her characters in the real 
human, that which is changeless and unchangeable 
as cycles in the world's eye; and to show that the 
mind of man in its essentials does not change, and 
that its perfection is gained only by the spiritual side 
of things, overcapping the material and the so-called 
animal. That God intends men and women to attain 
this superiority over matter is one of the aesthetic 
treasures of Marie Corelli's literature, generally not 
particularly well received, still less understood, but 
haply none the less welcome, as it is a conception 
of its own peculiar originality by no means local. 
The fictional character of Caiaphas in all his syco- 
phancy and sacerdotal arrogancy occupies a meas- 
ure of the romance, furnishing a tone of treachery 
throughout. 

"Once dead," whispered Caiaphas, with a con- 
temptuous side-glance at the fair-faced enemy of 
his craft, the silent "Witness unto the Truth,"— 
"and, moreover, slain with dishonor in the public 
sight, he will soon sink out of remembrance. His 
few disciples will be despised, — his fanatical foolish 
doctrine will be sneered down, and we, — we will 
take heed that no chronicle of his birth or death or 
teaching remains to be included in our annals. A 
stray street preacher to the common folk!— how 
should his name endure ? " 

Naturally the description of the Magdalen is full 
of extraordinary beauty. It is the beauty of a 



"Barabbas" 159 

regenerated soul, a soul of love and greatness, 
emancipated from the material, yet bearing the 
same. The death of the one Magdalen, and the 
rising therefrom of the new Mary, is pathetically 
described in her own words to Barabbas: 

"Friend, I have died!" — she said. — *'At my 
Lord's feet 1 laid down all my hfe. Men made me 
what 1 was; God makes me what 1 am!" 



" Thou'rt man " — she answered.—'' Therefore as 
man thou speakest! Lay all the burden upon 
woman, — the burden of sin, of misery, of shame, 
of tears; teach her to dream of perfect love, and 
then devour her by selfish lust, — slay her by slow 
tortures innumerable, — cast her away and trample 
on her even as a worm in the dust, and then when 
she has perished, stand on her grave and curse her, 
saying—' Thou wert to blame!— thou fond, foolish, 
credulous trusting soul! — thou wert to blame!— 
not I!'" 

If Miss Corelli was bold in attacking so vast and 
so controversial a subject as the tragedy of the 
Christ, she was none the less inspired in her con- 
ception of the situation. The description of Jesus 
of Nazareth, upon whom the story centres and 
concludes, is simplicity itself. It teaches charity, 
love, brotherhood, and yet preaches humility; 
not humility of a universal ignorance, but that 
*' humility " which puts even dignity in the shade, 



l6o Marie Corelli 

since it is dignity in another name. The pathetic 
touches are the cream of her story. It is not a long 
study, but what there is, is strange and touching 
with the wholesomeness of real pathos, not of one 
particular class, not mythical, but a tender theme as 
it were from a woman's tender heart, possessing 
the faculty of a noble sympathy for the world's 
greatest tale of inimitable love and sorrow there- 
from. The chapter on the resurrection is one of 
the highest aims of the work, and has been read 
frequently as a "lesson " in the Churches on Easter 
day. The peculiar and idealistic spirituality of the 
angels at the tomb is told in a fashion distinctive of 
the writer. The scene of the resurrection, indeed, 
is worth giving in its entirety : 

" A deep silence reigned. All the soldiers of the 
watch lay stretched on the ground unconscious, as 
though struck by lightning; the previous myste- 
rious singing of the birds had ceased; and only the 
lambent quivering of the wing-like glory surround- 
ing the two angelic Messengers, seemed to make an 
expressed though unheard sound as of music. 
Then, ... in the midst of the solemn hush, 
. . . the great stone that closed the tomb of the 
Crucified trembled, . . . and was suddenly 
thrust back like a door flung open in haste for the 
exit of a King, . . . andlo! . . . a Third 
great Angel joined the other two! Sublimely beau- 
tiful He stood, — the Risen from the Dead! gazing 
with loving eyes on all the swooning, sleeping 
world of men; the same grand Countenance that 



"Barabbas" 161 

had made a glory of the Cross of Death, now, with 
a smile of victory, gave poor Humanity the gift of 
everlasting Life! The grateful skies brightened 
above Him,— earth exhaled its choicest odors 
through every little pulsing leaf and scented herb 
and tree; Nature exulted in the touch of things 
eternal,— and the dim pearly light of the gradually 
breaking morn fell on all things with a greater 
purity, a brighter blessedness than ever had invested 
it before. The man Crucified and Risen, now man- 
ifested in Himself the mystic mingling of God in 
humanity; and taught that for the powers of the 
Soul set free from sin, there is no limit, no van- 
quishment, no end! No more eternal partings for 
those who on the earth should learn to love each 
other, — no more the withering hopelessness of de- 
spair, — the only " death " now possible to redeemed 
mortality being " the bondage of sin '' voluntarily 
entered into and preferred by the unbelieving. And 
from this self-wrought, self-chosen doom not even 
a God can save! " 



This appeals fully to the poetic imagination, and 
it seems to quicken a kind of personal interest as 
to the marvelous mystery of that stupendous oc- 
casion. 

Marie Corelli's Christ embodies much of the 
human— the human that is divinely magnetic, 
almost, if not quite, undefmable, yet not exclusive, 
not idolatrous, but simply and gently human. The 
creation of the character of Jesus of Nazareth pos- 
sesses no atom of bigotry. It teaches love and does 
not seek to embitter hate. The aura of the master 



l62 Marie Corelli 

character permeates each living character through- 
out the work. It preaches Love, Charity, and 
Brotherhood; it ignores the Church (i, e., sectarian 
misnomer), so it should have, as it has through so 
many tongues, its mission. 

There is no new creed, no new passion, no new 
deed under the sun to-day. There is only the same 
recapitulation in a fresh garb. Our Saints still live 
to-day. It sounds drastic enough, but Miss Corelli 
feels this and knows that midst the fair field of 
fairness there is also the thorn and the poisonous 
flower any one may cull, or the simple field lily that 
lifts its face to Heaven, and sees only Heaven in its 
purity. 

Kingsley said, " The history of England is 
the literature of England." Possibly so. The 
strong advance of women writers ever since that 
excellent man's passing has proved much of this. 
It is to the honor of women to-day. It is proved 
in the fine grasp of subjects, the faculty of dealing 
poetically with a theme, so widely known yet 
always fresh, under new lens, and without which 
this world to many would be a finite and a joyless 
place. There is just another quotation from " Bar- 
abbas," quite at the conclusion of this remarkable 
book, which weighs in with this and also with the 
author's idea, — just an exoneration of the Great 



" Barabbas " 163 

Tragedy, a simplification of the whole story. It is 
the finale and in itself not only teaches powerfully, 
but is an invitation, as it were, from a potent mind 
to those to whom it sends its own message: 

" * It is God's symbolic teaching,' he said, ' which 
few of us may understand. A language unlettered 
and vast as eternity itself! Upon that hill of Cal- 
vary to which thou, Simon, turnest thy parting 
looks of tenderness, has been mystically enacted the 
world's one Tragedy — the tragedy of Love and 
Genius slain to satisfy the malice of mankind. But 
Love and Genius are immortal; and immortality 
must evermore arise: wherefore in the dark days 
that are coming let us not lose our courage or our 
hope. There will be many forms of faith,— and 
many human creeds in which there is no touch of 
the Divine. Keep we to the faithful following of 
Christ, and in the midst of many bewilderments we 
^hall not wander far astray. The hour grows late, 
—come, thou first hermit of the Christian world!— 
let us go on together! ' 

'' They descended the hill. Across the plains they 
passed slowly, taking the way that led towards the 
mystic land of Egypt, where the Pyramids lift their 
summits to the stars, and the Nile murmurs of the 
false gods forgotten. They walked in a path of 
roseate radiance left by a reflection of the vanished 
sun; and went onward steadily, never once looking 
back till their figures gradually diminished and dis- 
appeared. Swiftly the night gathered, and spread 
itself darkly over Jerusalem like a threatening 
shadow of storm and swift destruction; thunder 
was in the air, and only one pale star peeped dimly 
forth in the dusk, shining placidly over the Place of 
Tombs, where, in his quiet burial-cave, Barabbas 
slept beside the withering palm." 



CHAPTER IX 

"THE SORROWS OF SATAN," — AS A BOOK AND AS A 
PLAY, — THE STORY OF THE DRAMATIZATION 

The publication of **The Sorrows of Satan," in 
1895, caused a greater sensation than had followed 
the appearance of any other work by Miss Corelli. 
Many presumably competent judges of literature in- 
dulged in an absolute orgie of denunciation. In the 
Review of Reviews, Mr. W. T. Stead printed a col- 
umn or so of sneers, though admitting that the con- 
ception was magnificent, and that the author had an 
immense command of language. Anxious, appar- 
ently, not to miss what would greatly interest the 
public, a good twelve pages of his periodical were 
devoted to extracts from the book. He knew, as 
all the critics knew, that all the world would soon 
be reading it, and forming its own judgment. The 
public must, in very truth, form an unflattering 
opinion of the fairness of some of those who attempt 
to force their own opinions of a book upon men 
and women who are not only fully capable of think- 
ing for themselves, but who, sometimes, — as in the 
164 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 165 

case of Marie Corelli's publications, — insist upon 
doing so. 

Most of the critics entirely missed the point of 
" The Sorrows of Satan." There is a notable char- 
acter in the book — Lady Sibyl Elton. Now the idea 
of Lady Sibyl was an allegorical one. She repre- 
sented, to Marie CorelH's mind, the brilliant, indif- 
ferent, selfish, vicious impersonation of Society offer- 
ing itself body and soul to the devil. This was com- 
pletely lost sight of by most of those who criticised 
the book, and who had not the imagination to see 
beyond the mere forms of woman and fiend. All the 
other characters are arranged to play round this one 
central idea, so far as the ** woman of the piece" 
was concerned. 

It utterly surprised the author to find that people 
imagined that she had taken some real woman to 
portray, and had contrasted her badness with Mavis 
Clare to advertise her own excellent character against 
the other's blackness. Facts, however, are facts. 
Marie Corelli considers that the evils of society are 
wrought by women; hence the impersonation of 
Lady Sibyl as a woman, courting the devil. Sec- 
ondly, she considers that the reformation of society 
must be wrought by women; hence the impersona- 
tion of Mavis Clare, as a woman repelling the devil. 

"The Sorrows of Satan " is now in its forty-third 



i66 Marie Corelli 

edition. The book has not only been read by rep- 
resentatives of all classes in all countries, but is val- 
ued and loved by many thousands who, by the 
wonderful power of this single pen, have been forced 
to think; and, by meditating upon the problems 
which make the book, have found themselves better 
men and women for the exercise. 

"Thousands and tens of thousands throughout 
English-speaking Christendom," declared Father Ig- 
natius, ** will bless the author who has dared to pen 
the pages of * The Sorrows of Satan ' ; they will 
bless Marie Corelli's pen, respecting its denunciation 
of the blasphemous verses of a certain ' popular 
British poet.' Where did the courage come from 
that made her pen so bold that the personality of 
God, the divinity of Christ, the sanctity of marriage, 
the necessity of religious education should thus 
crash upon you from the pen of a woman } " 

Courageous, indeed, is any author or speaker, who 
attacks the selfishness, the materialism, the insin- 
cerity of much of our social life and of many of our 
social customs. And what made the attack so suc- 
cessful, what caused such bitter resentment on the 
part of those who hate Marie Corelli for her expos- 
ures of shams and impostures, and her valiant up- 
holding of virtue and of truth, is the fact that the 
author has not only the courage which her convic- 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 167 

tions give 'her, but that she has the power that justi- 
fies her bravery! The book is a grand and success- 
ful attempt to show how women who are good and 
true hold the affection, the esteem, the devotion, the 
homage of men; it is an incentive to women to be 
in men's regard the Good Angels that men best love 
to believe them; it is a lesson to women how to at- 
tain the noblest heights of womanhood. 

As Marie Corelli, in discussing the " Modern Mar- 
riage Market," has said, "Follies, temptations, and 
hypocrisies surround, in a greater or less degree, all 
women, whether in society or out of it; and we are 
none of us angels, though, to their credit be it said, 
some men still think us so. Some men still make 
* angels ' out of us, in spite of our cycling mania, 
our foolish * clubs,'— where we do nothing at all,— 
our rough games at football and cricket, our general 
throwing to the winds of all dainty feminine reserve, 
delicacy, and modesty,— and we alone are to blame 
if we shatter their ideals and sit down by choice in 
the mud when they would have placed us on 
thrones." 

The woman who reads and studies ''The Sorrows 
of Satan" will desire to attain the angel ideal; and 
the lesson will be the better learned by the reading 
of this book because of the appalling picture of Lady 
Sibyl Ehon, whose callousness and whose fin-de- 



l68 Marie Corelli 

Steele masquerading, lying, trickery, atheism, and 
vice, make up an abomination in the form of Venus 
that is a painting of many society beauties of the 
day, — soulless beauties whose bodies are as deliber- 
ately sold in the marriage mart as the clothes and 
jewels with which their damning forms are 
adorned. 

And then in "The Sorrows of Satan" there is 
the unattractive personality of Geoffrey Tempest, a 
man with five millions of money, one of whose 
first declarations on the attainment of wealth is 
that he will give to none and lend to none, and 
who pursues a life of vanity, selfishness, and self- 
aggrandizement, until at last he repels the evil 
genius of the story, Prince Lucio Rimanez — the 
devil. 

In the opening chapter of "The Sorrows of 
Satan " we are introduced to Mr. Geoffrey Tempest, 
at the moment a writer and a man of brains, but 
starving and sick at heart through a hopeless 
struggle against poverty, and railing against fate and 
the good luck of a "worthless lounger with his 
pockets full of gold by mere chance and heri- 
tage." He is in the lowest depths of despair, hav- 
ing just had a book of somewhat lofty thoughts 
rejected with the advice that, to make a book "go," 
it is desirable, from the publisher's point of view, 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 169 

that it should be somewhat risque ; in fact, the 
more indecent the better. It was pitiful advice and 
wholly false, for the reason that the great majority 
of publishers most carefully avoid works of the 
kind. Tempest's case is bad indeed. He must 
starve, because his ideas are "old-fashioned." 
Moreover, he cannot pay his landlady her bill. 
And just at this critical moment two things 
happen. He receives £^0 from an old chum and 
;£^,ooo,ooo from Satan. But he is not aware of 
the real source from which proceeds the latter sum. 
Presumably it comes from an unknown uncle 
whose solicitors confide to the legatee that the old 
man had a strange idea " that he had sold himself 
to the devil, and that his large fortune was one 
result of the bargain." But who, with five millions 
to his name, would worry about an old man's 
fancies.^ Certainly not Geoffrey Tempest. Prob- 
ably no man. 

On the very night that the intimation of his good 
fortune reaches him, the newly made millionaire 
receives a call from Prince Lucio Rimanez, whose 
person is beautiful, whose conversation is witty to 
brilliance, whose wealth is unlimited, and whose 
age is mysterious. The meeting takes place very 
suitably in the dark, and the hands of the pair 
meet in the gloom "quite blandly and without 



lyo Marie Corelli 

guidance " ; and we soon hear from the lips of the 
Prince that it is a most beautiful dispensation of 
nature that " honest folk should be sacrified in 
order to provide for the sustenance of knaves!" 
and that the devil not only drives the world 
whip in hand, but that he manages his team 
very easily. 

Tempest and Rimanez forthwith become friends 
— even more, chums inseparable; and soon we find 
Mr. Geoffrey Tempest very aptly playing the part 
he had formerly rallied against— that of a worthless 
lounger with his pockets full of gold, and glutton- 
ously swallowing the evil and corrupting maxims 
of his fascinating friend. He eats the best of food, 
drinks the most expensive of wines, and rides in the 
most luxurious of carriages; his book is published 
and advertised and boomed at his own expense, 
and he has not a particle of sympathy for the poor 
or the suffering. " It often happens that when bags 
of money fall to the lot of aspiring genius, God 
departs and the devil walks in." So asserts 
Rimanez — who ought to know; and so it proves in 
the case of his rich and ready disciple, Mr. 
Geoffrey Tempest. Nothing seems to disturb the 
serenity of the multi-millionaire in the early days 
of his new-found wealth and power — for the 
world bows before him— except a mysterious 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 171 

servant of the Prince's, a man named Amiel, who 
cooks mysterious meals for his master and, imp of 
mischief, plays strange pranks upon his fellow- 
servants. 

Soon Tempest, through the instrumentality of 
his princely friend, makes the acquaintance of the 
beautiful Lady Sibyl Elton. "No man, 1 think, 
ever forgets the first time he is brought face to 
face with perfect beauty in woman. He may have 
caught fleeting glimpses of many fair faces often,— 
bright eyes may have flashed on him like star- 
beams,— the hues of a dazzling complexion may 
now and then have charmed him, or the seductive 
outlines of a graceful figure;— all these are as mere 
peeps into the infinite. But when such vague and 
passing impressions are suddenly drawn together 
in one focus, when all his dreamy fancies of form 
and color take visible and complete manifestation 
in one living creature who looks down upon him, 
as it were, from an empyrean of untouched maiden 
pride and purity, it is more to his honor than 
his shame if his senses swoon at the ravishing 
vision, and he, despite his rough masculinity and 
brutal strength, becomes nothing but the merest 
slave to passion." Thus Geoffrey Tempest when 
the violet eyes of Sibyl Elton first rest upon him. 

The scene is a box at a theatre, the play of 



172 Marie Corelli 

questionable character about a "woman with a 
past." The picture is complete with the lady's 
father — the Earl of Elton — bending forward in the 
box and eagerly gloating over every detail of the 
performance. There is assuredly no exaggeration 
in this portraiture. Such scenes can be witnessed 
every night during the season. Nor does Marie 
Corelli go beyond the unpleasing truth in asserting 
that novels on similar themes are popular amongst 
women and are a sure preparation for the toleration 
and applause by women of such plays. 

The Earl of Elton is hard up, as his daughter 
knows, and she has been trained to manoeuvre for 
a rich husband. The idea of a marriage for love is 
out of the question; she is too wary to brave "the 
hundred gloomy consequences of the res angusta 
domi," as old Thackeray puts it. She is not the 
sort of girl who marries where her heart is, "with 
no other trust but in heaven, health, and labor,"— 
to quote the same mighty moralist. 

As Prince Rimanez has explained to Tempest, 
Lady Sibyl is " for sale " in the matrimonial market, 
and Tempest determines to buy her; or, in other 
words, decides that he wants to marry her and that 
his millions will enable him to achieve that object. 
Poor Lady Sibyl! A victim of circumstances, it is 
impossible not to pity her! Cold, callous, heartless, 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 173 

calculating, corrupt, she is what her mother has 
made her — the mother herself being a victim of 
paralysis and sensuality, a titled, worn-out rouee. 

*' Madame, we want mothers!" Napoleon once 
said truly to one who sorrowed over the decadence 
of French manhood; and to the Countess of Elton 
might have been applied, with more justice than to 
the less sinful sisters from whom society sweeps its 
skirts, the name of wanton. 

Tempest loses no time in pursuing what now be- 
comes the main object of his life — marriage with 
Lady Sibyl Elton, who is quite ready to be wooed. 
Incidentally, the book contains stirring pictures of 
the times. There is a visit of Tempest and Rimanez 
to an aristocratic gambling-house, and Miss Corelli's 
account of the scene there enacted is but a true de- 
scription of what is going on constantly *Mn the 
West." How often, when the Somerset House 
records of the wills of deceased men of note are re- 
vealed, do people marvel that So-and-so, with his 
vast income, was able to put by so little! 

Very often it is the gaming-table that supplies the 
reason. For the gambling fever is raging in the 
world of to-day from peers, statesmen, lawyers, 
aye, and ministers, to the street-boys who stake 
their trifles on a race or a game of shove ha'penny. 
There are book-makers who, as the police records 



174 Marie Corelli 

show, do not hesitate to accept penny bets on horse 
races from boys. There are ** swell" boarding- 
houses, we know, in secluded country retreats, 
where roulette, rouge et noir, and baccarat are 
played nightly all the year round, not for pounds, 
but for hundreds of pounds, and the police of the 
districts concerned never disturb the accursed play. 
There are luxurious flats in London where similar 
play goes on, equally undisturbed by the police. 
And there are the gaming hells, such as Miss 
Corelli describes, where often may be seen men of 
distinction, whose names are familiar to every ear, 
destroying their peace, their prosperity, the happi- 
ness of themselves and their families, for the luck of 
the cards. 

To such a place as this — where wealth and posi- 
tion were the only "open sesames" — went Tem- 
pest and Prince Rimanez. Both, so rich that it mat- 
tered not to them what resulted, play and win heav- 
ily, mainly from a Viscount Lynton. Rimanez here 
stays one of the only good impulses that came to 
Geoffrey Tempest after his accession to wealth. 
He would have forgiven the Viscount his ruinous 
losses. And so the play goes on, and then — a 
merry bet — Lynton plays with Rimanez at baccarat 
for a queer stake — his soul. Of course he loses, 
and Rimanez has but a short time to wait to collect 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 175 

the wager, for the mad young Viscount blows out 
his brains that night. Such is the history — less 
only the last specific bet — of many a young aristo- 
crat's suicide. 

In the furtherance of his marriage scheme, Tem- 
pest purchases Willowsmere Court, in Warwick- 
shire, a place which, in his palmy days, the Earl of 
Elton had owned, but which had subsequently got 
into the hands of the Jews. Near to Willowsmere 
lives Mavis Clare, the good angel of the story. It 
has been said "in print," and it is popularly be- 
lieved even now, notwithstanding positive denial, 
that Mavis Clare was intended to portray Miss Marie 
Corelli. It was an unwarrantable and unfair sug- 
gestion, because it implied to Miss Corelli that gross 
libel, often falsely attributed to her, of vanity and 
self-advertisement. In very truth, if she were vain 
it would be a sin easy to condone in one who has 
achieved so much. Yet, happily, she is so true a 
woman that vanity has no part in her character, and 
she is incapable of deliberately applying to herself 
the Mavis Clare description. 

In the Review of Reviews it was stated: "A 
leading figure in * The Sorrows of Satan ' is none 
other than the authoress herself, Marie Corelli, who, 
like Lucifer, the Son of Morning, also appears un- 
der a disguise. But it is a disguise so transparent 



176 Marie Corelli 

that the wayfaring man, though a fool, could not 
fail in identifying it. Mavis Clare, whose initials it 
may be remarked ^ are the same as those of the au- 
thoress, represents Marie Corelli's ideal of what she 
would like to be, but isn't; what in her more ex- 
alted moments she imagines herself to be. It is 
somewhat touching to see this attempt at self-por- 
traiture." The suggestion thus put forward, that 
Mavis Clare was a deliberate portrait of Miss Marie 
Corelli, was at once accepted by the public — be it 
said to the credit of the public, who, having read 
her books, must have been instilled with the accu- 
rate idea that the talented author must be good and 
true, like Mavis Clare. Color was naturally lent to 
the suggestion of her deliberate self-portraiture 
by the similarity of the initials, and also of the 
circumstances of Miss Corelli and the lady of the 
story. 

Nothing, however, was further from Miss Cprelli's 
thoughts or intentions than this, and the similarity 
of the initials was purely accidental. The name 
was written in the manuscript and appeared in the 
proofs as " Mavis Dare " and not Mavis Clare. Not 
only just before the book went to press, but actually 
whilst it was in the press, the second name was 
suddenly altered, because it was pointed out to 

^ As this was obvious the remark was unnecessary. 



"The Sorrows of Satan '* 177 

Miss Corelli that the name was so very like the 
"Avice Dare" of another writer. When these 
facts were brought to Mr. Stead's notice he did 
Miss Corelli the justice to apologize for the state- 
ment which had been made in the Review of 
Reviews. 

It is Lady Sibyl who suddenly and violently 
breaks the thin wall between Tempest's desire to 
marry her and the formal request that she shall 
become his wife. She, with just enough glimmer- 
ing of honor to detest the " marriage by arrange- 
ment," informs him of her knowledge that her 
charms are for sale and that he, Tempest, is to be 
the accepted purchaser. Her language is plain 
enough in very truth to demonstrate the hideous- 
ness of the bargain, for this is the picture of the 
bride-to-be that she herself draws for the edification 
of her future husband : 

"I ask you, do you think a girl can read the 
books that are now freely published, and that her 
silly society friends tell her to read, — 'because it is 
so dreadfully queer ! ' — and yet remain unspoilt and 
innocent? Books that go into the details of the 
lives of outcasts ? — that explain and analyze the 
secret vices of men ? — that advocate almost as a 
sacred duty ' free love' and universal polygamy ? — 
that see no shame in introducing into the circles of 
good wives and pure-minded girls, a heroine who 
boldly seeks out a man, any man, in order that she 
may have a child by him, without the * degradation ' 



lyS Marie Corelli 

of marrying him ? I have read all those books, and 
what can you expect of me ? Not innocence, 
surely! I despise men, — I despise my own sex, — I 
loathe myself for being a woman! You wonder at 
my fanaticism for Mavis Clare, — it is only because 
for a time her books give me back my self-respect, 
and make me see humanity in a nobler light, — be- 
cause she restores to me, if only for an hour, a kind 
of glimmering belief in God, so that my mind feels 
refreshed and cleansed. All the same, you must 
not look upon me as an innocent young girl, 
Geoffrey, a girl such as the great poets indealized 
and sang of. 1 am a contaminated creature, trained 
to perfection in the lax morals and prurient litera- 
ture of my day." 



The unholy wedding of the selfish millionaire and 
Lady Sibyl Elton takes place. Prince Rimanez 
acts as master of the ceremonies, and calls to his 
aid a devil's own army of imps who work marvel- 
ous musical and picturesque effects — their identifi- 
cation as creatures of hell being, of course, hidden. 
Even thunder and lightning are called down to add 
to the remarkable scene. And so the marriage 
bargain is completed. Disillusionment quickly 
follows, and we find the husband and wife 
mutually disgusted with one another, and on the 
verge of hate. Lady Sibyl, however, finds passion 
at last, passion for the husband's friend, Lucio 
Rimanez, Prince of Darkness. 

To such an extent does this fever of love possess 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 179 

her that she seeks out Rimanez one night and de- 
clares her love, only to be scorned by him : 

*M know you love me," (is his retort); "I have 
always known it! Your vampire soul leaped to 
mine at the first glance 1 ever gave you." And he 
rejects her pleadings. " For you corrupt the world, 
— you turn good to evil, — you deepen folly into 
crime, — with the seduction of your nude limbs and 
lying eyes you make fools, cowards, and beasts of 
men! " There is no limit to the degradation of this 
evil wife. "Since you love me so well," he said, 
" kneel down and worship me!" 

She falls upon her knees. And the scene thus 
continues: 

** With every pulse of rny being I worship you! " 
she murmured passionately. "My king! my god! 
The cruel things you say but deepen my love for 
you; you can kill, but you can never change me! 
For one kiss of your lips I would die, — for one 
embrace from you 1 would give my soul! . . ." 

"Have you one to give?" he asked derisively. 
" Is it not already disposed of? You should make 
sure of that first! Stay where you are and let 
me look at you! So!— a woman, wearing a hus- 
band's name, holding a husband's honor, clothed 
in the very garments purchased with a husband's 
money, and newly risen from a husband's side, 
steals forth thus in the night, seeking to disgrace 
him and pollute herself by the vulgarest unchastity! 
And this is all that the culture and training of nine- 
teenth-century civilization can do for you ? Myself, 
I prefer the barbaric fashion of old times, when 
rough savages fought for their women as they 



l8o Marie Corelli 

fought for their cattle, treated them as cattle, and 
kept them in their place, never dreaming of endow- 
ing them with such strong virtues as truth and 
honor! If women were pure and true, then the 
lost happiness of the world might return to it, 
but the majority of them are like you — liars— ever 
pretending to be what they are not. I may do 
what 1 choose with you, you say ? torture you, kill 
you, brand you with the name of outcast in the 
public sight, and curse you before Heaven, if 1 will 
only love you! All this is melodramatic speech, and 
I never cared for melodrama at any time. 1 shall 
neither kill you, brand you, curse you, nor love 
you; I shall simply — call your husband! " 

After further passages of this description, con- 
cluding with some passes with a dagger, the scene 
ends, the hidden but listening husband coming 
forth and blessing the friend for his upright con- 
duct. The inevitable follows. Lady Sibyl commits 
suicide; and the husband, finding the corpse seated 
in a chair before a mirror, carries out a plan for an 
awful midnight interview with the dead, turning on 
a blaze of lamps, and sitting down there in the 
death-chamber to read a document left by his wife, 
in which she gives a pitiful picture of the training 
that has made her character so repellent. She 
describes, in a remarkable and appalling letter, of 
which an extract follows, how the death-giving 
poison is taken and the agonizing thoughts of the 
last moments. 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 181 

'*0h, God! . . . Let me write — write — 
while I can! Let me yet hold fast the thread which 
fastens me to earth, — give me time — time before I 
drift out, lost in yonder blackness and flame! Let 
me write for others the awful Truth, as I see it, — 
there is No death! None — none! / cannot die! 
. . . Let me write on, — write on with this dead 
fleshly hand, . . . one moment more time, 
dread God! . . . one moment more to write 
the truth, — the terrible truth of Death whose dark- 
est secret, Life, is unknown to men! ... To 
my despair and terror, — to my remorse and agony, 
I live! — oh, the unspeakable misery of this new 
life! And worst of all, — God whom I doubted, 
God whom I was taught to deny, this wronged, 
blasphemed and outraged God exists! And I could 
have found Him had 1 chosen, — this knowledge is 
forced upon me as I am torn from hence, — it is 
shouted at me by a thousand wailing voices! 
. . . too late! — too late! — the scarlet wings beat 
me downward, — these strange half-shapeless forms 
close round and drive me onward ... to a 
further darkness, . . . amid wind and fire! 
. . . Serve me, dead hand, once more ere I de- 
part, . . . my tortured spirit must seize and 
compel you to write down this thing unnamable, 
that earthly eyes may read, and earthly souls take 
timely warning! ... I know at last whom 
I have loved! — whom I have chosen, whom I have 
worshiped! . . . Oh, God, have mercy! 
. . . I know WHO claims my worship now, and 
drags me into yonder rolling world of flame! 
. . . his name is " 

Here the manuscript ends, — incomplete and 
broken off abruptly, — and there is a blot on the last 
sentence as though the pen had been violently 



i82 Marie Corelli 

wrenched from the dying fingers and flung hastily 
down. 

From this terrible incident the story hastens to its 
close, remarkable alike for the discourses of the 
Prince of Darkness, for the experiences of Tempest, 
for his final severance from the evil genius and his 
return to honest work. And here it is necessary to 
consider the conception of his Satanic Majesty with 
which the author presents us. She states that 
the idea came to her in the first place from the New 
Testament: "There I found that Christ was 
tempted by Satan with the offer of thrones, princi- 
palities and powers, all of which the Saviour 
rejected. When the temptation was over I read 
that Satan left Him, and that angels came and 
ministered to Him. I thought this out in my own 
mind and 1 concluded that if man, through Christ, 
would only reject Satan, Satan would leave him, 
and that angels would minister to him in the same 
way that they ministered to Christ. Out of this 
germ rose the wider idea that Satan himself might 
be glad for men to so reject him, as he then might 
have the chance of recovering his lost angelic 
position." In fact, the writer would have it that 
Satan becomes on terms of intimacy with man, and 
man then becomes consequently evil, only if man 
shows that he wishes to travel an evil course; that 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 183 

man may never redeem the devil, but that when 
man has become as perfect as, through Christ, 
he may, then the devil may again become an angel 
—a Doctrine of universal salvation for sinners and 
for Satan too. No other writer has given such 
a conception of the devil's character and position. 

The central conception of ''The Sorrows of 
Satan," Marie Corelli further says, is that as the 
possession of an immortal spirit must needs breed 
immortal longings, Satan, being an angel once, 
must of necessity long for that state of perfection; 
and that God, being the perfection of love, could 
not in His love deny all hope of final redemption 
even to Satan. Truly she here gives a conception 
of the God of Love more attractive than the pitiless 
readings of the Divine character which some theo- 
logians would have us accept. 

There are the two conflicting influences in the 
novelist's conception of the devil— Satan endeavor- 
ing to corrupt and destroy man, yet knowing that 
if man rejects him he is nearer to his own redemp- 
tion. And so in this book we find Prince Lucio 
Rimanez often giving utterance to thoughts and 
principles which the man enslaved by him refuses 
to adopt and practice, as if he longed for Tempest 
to repel him, though helping forward all his selfish 
schemes. And we are given, too, the picture of 



184 Marie Corelli 

this Prince of Darkness, finding that Mavis Clare 
could not be tempted, begging for her prayers— 
"you believe God hears you. . . . Only a pure 
woman can make faith possible to man. Pray for 
me, then, as one who has fallen from his higher 
and better self; who strives, but who may not 
attain; who labors under heavy punishment; who 
would fain reach Heaven, but who by the cursed 
will of man, and man alone, is kept in hell! Pray 
for me. Mavis Clare; promise it; and so shall you 
lift me a step nearer the glory I have lost." 

Rimanez and Tempest go on a long yachting 
cruise together,— to Egypt, — and during this jour- 
ney the discourses of the Prince are numerous and 
of intense interest. In one he states that if men 
were true to their immortal instincts and to the God 
that made them, — if they were generous, honest, 
fearless, faithful, reverent, unselfish, ... if 
women were pure, brave, tender, and loving, — ^then 
"Lucifer, Son of the Morning/' lifted towards his 
Creator on the prayers of pure lives, would wear 
again his Angel's crown. There is for a brief 
period after this a vision of the devil, — *'one who, 
proud and rebellious, like you, errs less, in that he 
owns God as his Master " — as an Angel. And then 
the yacht, steered by the demon Amiel, crashes on 
through ice with a noise like thunder, to the world's 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 185 

end. Tempest catches a passing glimpse of his 
dead wife, and feels remorse and pity at last. A 
few moments pass and Tempest's hour has come, 
an hour for a great decision : 

**Know from henceforth that the Supernatural 
Universe in and around the Natural is no lie, — but 
the chief Reality, inasmuch as God surroundeth all! 
Fate strikes thine hour, — and in this hour 'tis given 
thee to choose thy Master. Now, by the will 
of God, thou seest me as Angel; — but take heed 
thou forget not that among men I am as Man! In 
human form I move with all humanity through end- 
less ages, — to kings and counselors, to priests and 
scientists, to thinkers and teachers, to old and 
young, I come in the shape their pride or vice de- 
mands, and am as one with all. Self finds in me 
another Ego; — but from the pure in heart, the high 
in faith, the perfect in intention, 1 do retreat with 
joy, oflfering naught save reverence, demanding 
naught save prayer! So am I — so must I ever be — 
till Man of his own will releases and redeems me. 
Mistake me not, but know me! — and choose thy 
Future for truth's sake and not out of fear! Choose 
and change not in any time hereafter, — this hour, 
this moment is thy last probation, — choose, I say! 
Wilt thou serve Self and Me ? or God only ? " 

The choice is made. Tempest realizes with 
shame his miserable vices, his puny scorn of God 
his effronteries and blasphemies; and in the sudden 
strong repulsion and repudiation of his own worth- 
less existence, being, and character, he finds both 
voice and speech. "God only! Annihilation at 



i86 Marie Corelli 

His hands, rather than life without Him! God 
only! I have chosen!" From the brightening 
heaven there rings a silver voice, clear as a clarion- 
call,— " Arise, Lucifer, Son of the Morning! One 
soul rejects thee,— one hour of joy is granted thee! 
Hence, and arise! " And with a vision of the man 
fiend rushing for a brief hour to celestial regions, 
because of one soul that rejected Satan, Geoffrey 
Tempest finds himself tied to a raft on the open sea, 
and remembers the promise, "Him who cometh 
unto me will I in no wise cast out." 

The late Rev. H. R. Haweis, preaching on this 
book, said: " 'Seek ye first the kingdom of God 
and His righteousness and all these things shall be 
added unto you,' is the grand moral carried out," 
and that is an opinion, notwithstanding the ban of 
the Romish Church, which is entertained of the 
book by many Christian men, by a large number of 
Christian clergy. It is a declaration of the Nemesis 
of everything that opposes itself to the will of God. 
The book teaches the softening influences upon 
mankind of good deeds done, of good words 
spoken. It teaches, in brief, that there are two 
contending powers at work upon mankind — the 
evil and the good; and the book is an eloquent, 
beautiful, effective contribution to the victory of the 
Good. The sensuality, the evil imagination, the 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 187 

prostitution of the marriage sacrament to com- 
mercial bargains, the infidelity, in thought and in- 
tention, though not in deed, of Lady Sibyl Elton, 
are stripped of their pretty dressings and shown in 
their detestable reality. " The acts of selfishness in 
man," Mr. Haweis added, "are exhibited in the 
person of Geoffrey Tempest in a garb that repels 
and with results that horrify; and the pure influence 
of Mavis Clare is shown on the other side of the 
picture, bright and attractive, the spirit of peace, 
contentment, and love in a glorious and glorified 
conquest of the spirit of evil." 

Miss Corelli has suffered in a peculiar way from 
the deficiencies of the law of copyright which 
allows perfect protection to a mechanical patent, 
but which gives an author no adequate protection 
over rights such as the dramatization of a book. 
**The Sorrows of Satan," as everybody knows, 
was dramatized, and this is how it came about: In 
the year of the publication of *'The Sorrows of 
Satan," 1895, Mr. George Eric Mackay introduced to 
his stepsister a lady of his acquaintance, a sculp- 
tress, who, so he said, was anxious to make a 
study of his head. This lady, in her turn, intro- 
duced Captain Woodgate, who expressed his en- 
thusiastic admiration for ''The Sorrows of Satan" 
to Miss Corelli, and said it would make a very fine 



l88 Marie Corelli 

play, and followed up his praise by asking whether 
he might try his hand at dramatizing it, as he had 
already had some experience in the writing of 
plays. Miss Corelli replied that she had not 
thought of it at all as a play, but that she had no 
objection to his trying, on condition that nothing 
was produced without her authorization and per- 
mission. Captain Woodgate readily consented to 
this, but the whole subject was talked of so casually 
that (so Miss Corelli declares) she did not think he 
really meant to undertake it. 

Miss Corelli was very ill at the time, and went to 
Scotland for her health. During her absence. Cap- 
tain Woodgate went to work, and called in the as- 
sistance of Mr. Paul Berton. Between them they 
wrote a play, and **The Grosvenor Syndicate" 
was formed for the purposes of its production. 

Miss Corelli was then invited to hear the play 
read in the Shaftesbury Theatre green-room. Miss 
Evelyn Millard, selected to play the part of " Lady 
Sibyl," was present. After the first act had been 
read by Mr. Paul Berton, Miss Corelli informs us 
that she very decidedly expressed her objection to 
it, and said that it would never do. Mr. Eric 
Mackay, who was also present, said that, on the 
contrary, he thought it ** admirable." Miss Corelli, 
hearing this, remained silent while the second act 



"The Sorrows of Satan" 189 

was proceeded with by Mr. Berton, to her increas- 
ing distaste. Her feelings in the matter (so Miss 
Corelli declares) met with complete sympathy from 
Miss Evelyn Millard, who, rising from her place, 
begged Miss Corelli to give her a few words in 
private. Miss Corelli followed her out of the room, 
and Miss Millard then said: " My dear Miss Corelli, 
I was ready and glad to think of playing your char- 
acter of *Lady Sibyl Elton' in 'The Sorrows of 
Satan,' but I cannot possibly consent to act in this." 

Miss Corelli thanked Miss Millard very heartily 
for her plain speaking and her decision, and then, 
informing the joint authors that she would have 
nothing whatever to do with the play, the meeting 
at the Shaftesbury broke up. Mr. Lewis Waller, 
who had been selected for the part of "Lucio 
Rimanez," wrote a letter to Miss Corelli in which 
he cordially sympathized with her on the treatment 
her work had received. 

**The Grosvenor Syndicate " paid her five hun- 
dred pounds for the use of her name, but this sum 
she offered to promptly return if they would as 
promptly withdraw the play. Upon this the share- 
holders met together at the office of Miss Corelli's 
lawyer to discuss the matter, and Miss Corelli again 
proposed to give them back at once the five hundred 
pounds, and to write a play on her book herself. It 



190 Marie Corelli 

may be added that, if she had been allowed to do 
this, Mr. Beerbohm Tree would have been ready 
and glad to consider the part of Prince Lucio. She 
said to those who had invested their money in the 
syndicate: ''Gentlemen, if you will withdraw this 
work, I will guarantee to write you a play which 
shall be a success." They, however, after consid- 
eration, refused, saying that shares were issued and 
they could not go back. Miss Corelli, therefore, 
withdrew her ** authorization " altogether, and only 
allowed the simple use of her name on the pro- 
grammes to this effect: "Dramatized from the 
novel of that name by Marie Corelli." The play 
was therefore produced for the first time at the 
Shaftesbury Theatre on the evening of January 9th, 
1897, in the presence of H. R. H. the Duke of Cam- 
bridge and suite, the Duke, audibly expressing 
agreement with Miss Corelli's views of the work. 
She herself was not present. She was lying. ill in 
bed, suffering acute pain, having that very day gone 
through a trying ordeal of surgical examination by 
Sir John Williams, who had bluntly informed her 
that she had not, perhaps, six months to live unless 
she went through a grave operation. It will be 
owned that this was a singular situation for any 
author, as she herself says, "to have the work of 
her brain dealt with in a way to which she took 



"The Sorrows of Satan** 191 

obvious ekception, and herself threatened with 
death both on the same day." 

The play of The Sorrows of Satan was produced, 
Mr. Lewis Waller playing the part of Lucio. Miss 
Millard remained staunch to her opinion, and wrote 
to Miss Corelli, saying how sincerely sorry she was 
that the play had been brought out, notwithstanding 
the protest. Since that time several dramatic versions 
of the book have been played, including Mr. C. W. 
Somerset's version, which Miss Corelli has described 
as a combination of her novel and the late George 
Augustus Sala's ** Margaret Foster." Mr. Somerset is 
himself the author of this production, and we are told 
that he informed Miss Corelli that he put the two 
books together in this work "to strengthen both ! " 

Miss Corelli would much like to put a stop to the 
various stage renderings of ''The Sorrows of Satan " 
if the law would give her the power to do so; and 
she would greatly like to see the law altered so as 
to give her and other authors such power. As it is, 
she now, to secure her titles, whenever she writes 
a book, has a play, bearing the title of her book, 
produced before a paying audience. 

In order to secure such dramatic copyright, au- 
thors have to pay to have their *'sham" play per- 
formed before a "sham" audience with "sham" 
actors! And the law compels it! 



CHAPTER X 

"THE MIGHTY ATOM" AND **B0Y" 

Marie Corelli never writes without a purpose — 
never solely to excite or entertain the reader who 
regards books as pleasant things provided for his 
regalement just as ices, pantomimes, and balloon 
ascents are. 

The greatest of novelists have generally told their 
stories with an object other than mere story-telling. 
Charles Reade brought about asylum reform by 
publishing ''Hard Cash," while in ''Foul Play" he 
made clear the injustice of preventing a prisoner 
from giving evidence in his own behalf — a state of 
things which has been only recently remedied; 
Dickens showed up villainous schoolmasters, re- 
ceivers of stolen goods, the delays of the Law, 
Bumbledom, emigration frauds, and a hundred 
other abuses; Thackeray preached against cant; 
Wilkie Collins broke a lance with the vivisection- 
ists; and Clark Russell, in "The Wreck of the 
Grosvenor," told a harrowing story of the rotten 
food provided for the helpless merchant sailor. 

192 



"The Mighty Atom" and "Boy" 193 

Miss Corelli has grappled with human wrongs 
just as great, even though they may not be amena- 
ble to jurisdiction. 

In the two books before us she deals, in hard- 
hitting, thought-compelling terms, with the crim- 
inally mistaken up-bringing of children. Her 
object in writing ''The Mighty Atom" she tersely 
explains in her dedicatory note to "those self- 
styled ' progressivists ' " who support the cause of 
education without religion. The short and pathetic 
history of Lionel Valliscourt is placed before us as 
typical of the fate which so often befalls the over- 
wrought child-brain: the horrible end to the young 
life is depicted with the idea of manifesting in what 
the absence of religion even from a boy's mind may 
result. Had Lionel learned to say his prayers at 
his mother's knee; had he trotted off to Church 
every Sunday morning, his hand within his father's, 
and at eventide listened to the sweet old Bible- 
stories which so appeal to a child's imagination, 
the Christian precepts thus implanted in his heart 
would surely have stayed his hand when he con- 
ceived the idea of taking his own life. 

This most sad story fully brings home to the 
reader the evils attendant on the entirely godless 
teaching bestowed on a young and exceptionally 
bright boy, who has an instinctive yearning for that 



194 Marie Corelli 

** knowledge and love of God "of which our au- 
thoress is the strenuous champion. 

Lionel, the small centre of the picture, is intro- 
duced as a boy who "might have been a bank 
clerk or an experienced accountant in a London 
merchant's office, from his serious old-fashioned 
manner, instead of a child barely eleven years of 
age; indeed, as a matter of fact, there was an al- 
most appalling expression of premature wisdom on 
his pale wistful features; — the 'thinking furrow' 
already marked his forehead, — and what should still 
have been the babyish upper curve of his sensitive 
little mouth was almost, though not quite, obliter- 
ated by a severe line of constantly practiced self- 
restraint." 

Mr. Valliscourt has hired tutor after tutor to assist 
him in forcing Lionel's intellect, by turns each tutor 
has thrown up his task in disgust. At last comes 
William Montrose, B. A., a breezy Oxonian, who 
refuses point-blank to go through the "schedule of 
tuition" which Mr. Valliscourt "formulates" for 
his son's holiday tasks. Montrose is angrily dis- 
missed, and Professor Cadman-Gore, "the dark- 
lantern of learning and obscure glory of university 
poseurs," is engaged in his place to squeeze the 
juice out of poor little Lionel's already wearied 
brains. 



"The Mighty Atom" and "Boy" 195 

Very early in his holiday term of coaching the 
Professor has to submit to some cross-examination 
from Lionel on the subject of the Atom. " Where is 
it ?— that wonderful little First Atom, which, with- 
out knowing in the least what it was about, and 
with nobody to guide it, and having no reason, 
judgment, sight, or sense of its own, produced such 
beautiful creations ? And then, if you are able to 
tell me where it is, will you also tell me where it 
came from ? " 

It appears that Lionel has imbibed atheistic prin- 
ciples not only from his father, but from a former 
tutor, and he is determined to thrash the matter 
out with the Professor, whom he takes to be the 
cleverest man in the world. The Professor's re- 
plies, however, are unsatisfactory, and Lionel goes 
on wondering. 

The work continues, and he grows yet wearier. 
Manfully he struggles to accomplish his allotted 
tasks, each effort sapping his strength still further 
and adding to the pains which fill his head and 
drive sleep from his tired eyes. The Professor, 
acting according to orders, continues to grind the 
young brains to powder. 

At last the crisis arrives. Under dishonorable 
circumstances Lionel's mother leaves her husband: 
over-work, sorrow, too little exercise — all these 



196 Marie Corelli 

combined bring about Lionel's collapse. The plain- 
spoken village doctor orders him away for rest, 
and so the Professor and his young charge go to 
Clovelly, where they spend some bewilderingly 
delightful weeks of absolute idleness. The Pro- 
fessor's eyes have been somewhat opened by 
Lionel's break-down to the real state of the child, 
whom thereafter he treats with a certain rough 
kindness which wins him the boy's whole heart. 
Lionel cannot quite make it out — but he is grateful. 

** He used to show his gratitude,*' we are told, 
*'in odd little ways of his own, which had a curi- 
ous and softening effect on the mind of the learned 
Cadman-Gore. He would carefully brush the ugly 
hat of the great man and bring it to him, — he 
would pull out and smooth the large sticky fingers 
of his loose leather gloves and lay them side by 
side on a table ready for him to wear, — he would 
energetically polish the top of his big silver- 
knobbed stick, — and he would invariably make a 
• buttonhole ' of the prettiest flowers he could find 
for him to put in his coat at dinner." 

One can imagine the grim old gentleman being 
by turns astonished and touched by such atten- 
tions: the Professor indeed warms to the lad, and, 
when they return to Combmartin, bids him go and 
play instead of returning to his investigation of 



"The Mighty Atom" and "Boy" 197 

**The Advance of Positivism and Pure Reason," 
which formed part of that schedule of study which 
his father had previously insisted upon. 

Before his illness Lionel had become close friends 
with the village sexton, Reuben Dale, and that 
worthy's little daughter, Jessamine. It had been 
the boy's keenest joy to romp and talk with 
Jessamine, and so, on being afforded a holiday 
by the Professor's thoughtfulness, he proceeds with 
a light heart in search of his former playmate. 
He finds Reuben at work in the churchyard, and 
"the significant hollow in the ground was shaped 
slowly in a small dark square, to the length of a 
little child." 

The old man's sobs betray the truth — during 
Lionel's absence his baby sweetheart has fallen a 
prey to diphtheria. The boy's anguish is terrible: 
the sexton's simple faith in God's way being the 
best way has no comfort for the helpless little 
pagan who has been taught that such faith as this 
is sheer nonsense. *'No, no!" he cries; **thereis 
no God; you have not read, — you have not studied 
things, and you do not know, — but you are all 
wrong. There is no God, — there is only the Atom 
which does not care." 

Distracted with grief, Lionel tears away into the 
woods, his bewildered and weary head full of 



ig8 Marie Corelli 

strange thoughts. At last a firm resolve takes 
possession of him. "I know!— I know the best 
way to discover the real secret, — I must find it outl 
— and I will!" 

And he does. With the cool deliberation that 
is often a distinguishing attribute of one bent on 
self-destruction, he goes to bed in the usual way. 
When the house is quite still, and all its other 
inmates are slumbering, he steals down to his 
schoolroom, where he carefully pens some letters — 
one to his father, another to the Professor, and a 
third to Mr. Montrose. This done, he falls upon 
his knees by the open window and prays to that 
Being whom he feels "must be a God, really 
and truly," in spite of the many learned theories 
to the contrary by which his child-mind has been 
distracted. 

A little later "there came a heavy stillness, 
. . . and a sudden sense of cold in the air, 
as of the swift passing of the Shadow of Death." 

One may reasonably contend that such passages 
as these are unnecessarily distressing, and certainly 
there are several of Miss Corelli's works which 
should not be left in the way of weak-minded 
persons. The authoress, it is clear, wishes to 
drive home her arguments in a manner that will 
be remembered. Chapter XIV. of "The Mighty 



"The Mighty Atom" and "Boy" 199 

Atom " is not one that is ever likely to be forgotten 
by those who have read this book. 

People who object to such methods as Miss 
Corelli employs in "The Mighty Atom" must 
bear in mind that the motive underlying each of 
her stories is to show up a certain evil and suggest 
remedial measures, themselves as powerful as the 
disease requiring their application. 

The lesson taught so startlingly in '* The Mighty 
Atom " must have brought home the truths of its 
straightforward doctrines to a multitude of readers. 
Thus can a book drop seed which is destined to 
flourish abundantly for a great length of time 
and in widely separated places. If a book be 
good, it will have a long life: living, its effects will 
be felt by more than one generation of readers. 
Such is the power of literature— such the strength 
of a mere pen when wielded by one whose 
principal stock-in-trade is knowledge combined with 
sincerity and a determination to speak out for the 
general weal at all hazards, critics notwithstanding. 

-Boy," a book about equal in length to "The 
Mighty Atom," is less picturesque in its setting 
than the latter, but, on the other hand, is lightened 
by considerable humor and happy characterization. 
It is a sermon to parents. The boy, as we know, 



200 Marie Corelli 

is father of the man; consequently, if you bring 
a boy up badly, the complete growth of him when 
he reaches man's estate is hardly likely to be 
satisfactory. 

"It is a dangerous fallacy," says the author of 
" Boy," " to aver that every man has the making of 
his destiny in his own hands: to a certain extent he 
has, no doubt, and with education and firm resolve, 
he can do much to keep down the Beast and de- 
velop the Angel; but a terrific responsibility rests 
upon those often voluntarily reckless beings, his 
parents, who, without taking thought, use God's 
privilege of giving life, while utterly failing to per- 
ceive the means offered to them for developing 
and preserving that life under the wisest and most 
harmonious conditions." 

The career of the particular ** boy " under notice 
is traced from the time when, a crawling babe, he 
gravely surveys his father's drunken antics and 
ascribes them to attacks of illness. Hence his fre- 
quent references to the ** poo' sing" whose too 
close attentions to the bottle have earned him this 
mistaken infantile sympathy. ''Boy's" especial 
admirer is a maiden lady of ample means, who has 
an ardent desire to adopt him, but whose wishes 
are invariably thwarted by ** Boy's " mother, a 
'Marge, lazy, and unintelligent" woman with lim.- 



"The Mighty Atom" and "Boy" 201 

ited and peculiar ideas on the rearing and educating 
of children. The maiden lady herself has a devoted 
cavalier, in the shape of an elderly Major, v^ho pro- 
poses to her regularly, only to be met with a gentle 
but steady negative. The lady's heart is buried 
with a former lover, who, years before, went to 
India and died there; and although the Major 
knows that the object of his attachment is burning 
perpetual candles before a worthless shrine — for the 
dead man was a sad rascal in his day, and was, 
moreover, false to her — he prefers to let her live 
with her illusion rather than profit by acquainting 
her with the true facts of the case. 

As the Major is generally in attendance on Miss 
Letitia Leslie we see a good deal of the bluff old 
soldier, for "Boy" is occasionally allowed to go 
and stay with ** Miss Letty." These are the golden 
periods of the good maiden lady's life— and, too, 
of "Boy's," for while Miss Leslie cares for him 
properly, his mother exploits her ideas of mother- 
hood by feeding the little fellow "on sloppy food 
which frequently did not agree with him, in dosing 
him with medicine when he was out of sorts, in 
dressing him anyhow, and in allowing him to 
amuse himself as he liked wherever he could, how- 
ever he could, at all times, and in all places, dirty 
or clean." 



202 Marie Corelli 

Meantime, Captain the Honorable D'Arcy Muir 
rolls in and out of the house — more often than not 
in that state of drunken combativeness which finds 
a vent in assaulting mantelpiece ornaments and the 
lighter articles of furniture — and Mrs. D'Arcy Muir 
reads novels, or, studying personal ease before ap- 
pearance, slouches about the house in soft felt slip- 
pers and loosely fitting garments which frequently 
lack a sufficiency of buttons and hooks. 

In spite of such surroundings " Boy " remains a 
very lovable little fellow until he goes to school. 
Then Miss Letty and the Major lose sight of him for 
a long period, for he is sent to a school in Brittany. 
The Major deplores the fact: "You must say 
good-bye to * Boy ' forever! . . . Don't you 
see ? The child has gone — and he'll never come 
back. A boy will come back, but not the 
boy you knew. The boy you knew is practically 
dead. . . . The poor little chap had enough 
against him in his home surroundings, God knows! 
— but a cheap foreign school is the last straw on 
the camel's back. Whatever is good in his nature 
will go to waste; whatever is bad will grow and 
flourish!" 

As it happens, " Boy " stays in France only a 
year, but during that period Miss Letty, the Major, 
and the Major's niece go to America and settle 



"The Mighty Atom" and "Boy" 203 

down there for a time. ** Boy " reappears at the 
age of sixteen, when he is being educated at an 
English military school. One of the best-written 
scenes in the book describes the meeting of ** Boy " 
with Miss Letty, who returns from America about 
this time. ** Boy " has grown into a slim, awk- 
ward youth, getting on to six feet in height, cal- 
lous, listless, and cynical. He has lost his old 
frankness; he is not, as the Major predicted, the 
" boy " that Miss Letty knew in the days gone by. 

The description of the luncheon party when the 
four sides of the table are occupied respectively by 
Miss Letty, the Major, the latter's niece, and " Boy," 
is exceedingly well done, ** Boy's " stolid, blas^ re- 
plies to the many questions he is asked being ex- 
ceedingly diverting, although one feels sorry to see 
into what an automaton he has grown. 

" Are you glad you are going to be a soldier ? " 
the Major asks him. " Oh, I don't mind it! " says 
" Boy." ** Are you fond of flowers ? " the girl de- 
mands of him a little later. " 1 don't mind them 
much!" replies "Boy" indifferently. "Well, 
what do you mind ? Anything ? " puts in the 
Major. " Boy " laughed. ** 1 don't know." 

This scene — from which we have merely ex- 
tracted a few remarks — is in its way an excellent 
bit of comedy, but on behalf of public schoolboys 



204 Marie Corelli 

generally we must say that we don't think " Boy " 
would have put his hat on — as he is reported to 
have done — while still in the room with the ladies. 

"Boy" passes into Sandhurst, but is expelled 
therefrom for drunkenness; he gets a clerkship, in- 
curs card debts, alters the amount on a check 
which Miss Letty has sent him, repents of the 
fraud, returns the whole amount, with a manly 
apology, to Miss Letty, enlists, and is killed by the 
Boers. That, then, is the sad end of " Boy." 

In addition to the characters mentioned there are 
others of subsidiary importance, and there is, 
threading in and out of the ** Boy " episodes, a 
love-story which ends tragically, at the time, for 
the Major's niece, though she eventually meets the 
man Fate has decreed she shall marry, on a South 
African battle-field. 

In no other book has Miss Corelli favored us with 
so many smile-provoking passages. There is, for 
instance, a good deal of grim humor about " Rat- 
tling Jack "—the salt-dried veteran of whom " Boy " 
makes a friend when the D'Arcy Muirs move from 
their London home in Hereford Square to cheaper 
quarters on the coast. 

Rattling Jack doesn't sympathize with the ele- 
mentary methods of the young student of natural 
history. He doesn't see why beetles and butterflies 



"The Mighty Atom" and "Boy" 205 

should be trapped and carried home for the "mu- 
seum." One day " Boy " brings for the old sailor's 
inspection a beautiful rose-colored sea-anemone 
which he had managed to detach from the rocks 
and carry off in his tin pail. 

** There y'are, you see!" cries Rattling Jack. 
*' Now ye've made a fellow-creature miserable, y'are 
as 'appy as the day is long! Eh, eh — why for 
mussy's sake didn't ye leave it on the rocks in the 
sun with the sea a-washin' it an' the blessin' of the 
Lord A'mighty on it ? They things are jes' like 
human souls — there they stick on a rock o' faith and 
hope maybe, jes' wantin' nothin' but to be let alone; 
and then by and by some one comes along that 
begins to poke at 'em, and pull 'em about, and 
wake up all their sensitiveness-like — 'urt 'em as 
much as possible, that's the way! — and then they 
pulls 'em off their rocks and carries 'em off in a 
mean little tin pail! Ay, ay, ye may call a tin pail 
whatever ye please — a pile o' money or a pile o' 
love — it's nought but a tin pail — not a rock with the 
sun shinin' upon it. And 0' coorse they dies — there 
ain't no sense in livin' in a tin pail." 

This weary-wise old fellow must be credited to 
Miss Corelli as one of her best portraits in minia- 
ture. His observations are full of sage and season- 
ing, and we could do with more of him. 

Did Miss Corelli's themes allow of it, we might 
have been treated to a good deal more humor in 
her works, but she is too good an artist to intrude 
comic relief when such relief would merely be an 



2o6 Marie Corelli 

annoying interruption. But various passages in her 
books show her to be the possessor of a consider- 
able sense of the laughable, and it is to be hoped 
that she will some day find time to write a story 
dealing with the lighter side of existence. 



CHAPTER XI 



In the former of these works Marie Corelli has 
much to say about men that is very disagreeable 
and, as it appears to us, only partially true. It 
would seem that the novelist is too prone to seize 
upon a particular instance of "man's ingratitude," 
laziness, cruelty, and general worthlessness, and set 
it up as a frequently occurring type. 

In "The Murder of Delicia," for example, a hand- 
some guardsman, nicknamed by his fellow-officers 
"Beauty Carlyon," marries a lady novelist who is 
equally gifted in brain and person, and, after spend- 
ing her money for a considerable period, finally 
breaks her heart — in short, "murders" her — by his 
neglect and infidelity. 

The keynote of the story — which is, we are 
assured by its writer, a true one — may be found in 
an introductory note, which contains the following: 
" To put it plainly and bluntly, a great majority of 
the men of the present day want women to keep 
them,'' 

* The former of these works is published by Mr. Arrowsmith, 
and the latter by Messrs. Skeffington. 
207 



2o8 Marie Corelli 

Now surely this is an over-statement which will 
not strengthen Marie Corelli's case. We grant that 
a certain number of men marry for money, and that 
the women they so marry are only too glad to be 
married on those or any terms; but the social con- 
ditions of this era have not become so cankered as 
to lead the "great majority of men" to seek a 
livelihood at the altar steps! Would it not be alto- 
gether more reasonable to substitute **a certain 
minority" for "a great majority"? In fairness to 
the novelist, we must add that her remarks on this 
subject apply principally to the aristocracy. The 
worthy lover or husband of the middle classes may 
therefore breathe again. 

Nevertheless, we will venture to present the other 
aspect of this matter of marrying for money. It is 
well-known that many a wealthy woman languishes 
in virgin solitude on account of those very shekels 
of gold and shekels of silver which she possesseth, 
while her penniless girl-friends are donning their 
marital veils and going through the sweet old 
business of marrying and being given in marriage. 
This applies to the upper as well as to the lower 
ranks of society. 

Many a man— aye, many a guardsman— would 
now be a happy Benedict had a certain girl of **once 
upon a time " been possessed of no riches save the 



" The Murder of Delicia " and " Ziska " 209 

inestimable wealth of a loving heart, no diamonds 
except those shining in her eyes, no pearls but 
what one might see when her lips parted in shy 
smile or merry laughter. 

For the average man— be his rank high or low — 
loves a woman, as the saying is, for herself. While 
recognizing the value and usefulness of money, 
while raising no objection should his father-in-law 
allow the young wife pin-money, the average man 
who marries in the ordinary way sets little store on 
what his bride brings him in the shape of earthly 
dross. 

It is, however, incumbent on a writer of con- 
temporary biography to be in the main courteous 
and commendatory, else we might apply a harsher 
criticism to "The Murder of Delicia" than a mere 
statement to the effect that this book is the least 
worthy of all the books Marie Corelli has written. 
It is far too full of raihng against men; it is far too 
one-sided and far too bitter. Granted that a novel- 
ist must put his or her case strongly, in order to 
drive conviction home to the reader's mind — granted 
this, it must be at the same time pointed out that 
there are generally two sides to every question. 
Given that a certain number of men marry for 
money — for money and nothing else — it must be 
recollected that there are at the present moment 



210 Marie Corelli 

thousands of Englishwomen devoting whatever 
powers of mental arithmetic they may be endowed 
with to reckoning up exactly what pecuniary ad- 
vantages shall accrue to them if they marry Jack 
Jones, or, failing Jack Jones, John Smith ! And a 
cross-Channel pere de faniille would tell you that 
they are quite right to do this, that, indeed, if they 
were his daughters, he would do it for them, and 
have the whole thing put down in black and white 
at a notary's office. 

But — thank heaven ! — we are a little more senti- 
mental on this side of the narrow strip of silver sea. 
We still believe in the love marriage, and so an 
approving Dame Nature gives us healthy sons and 
daughters for the regular renewal of the nation's 
strength. Whereas in la belle France, with her 
businesslike matrimonial alliances, they have to 
offer prizes for babies! Truly a pathetic endeavor 
to stem a national decay! 

"The Murder of Delicia " is a short story, soon 
told. Lord Carlyon takes a strong fancy to Delicia 
Vaughan, the popular and beautiful lady-novelist, 
and his liking is returned tenfold. They marry, 
and Delicia supplies him with money for his 
clothes, club expenses, cabs, and card games. 
Were it not that we are aware that even the wisest 
of women may, in spite of their wisdom, love un- 



" The Murder of Delicia " and " Ziska "211 

wisely, we should marvel at a woman of Delicia 
Vaughan's intellectual gifts (which were coupled, 
we may presume, with the keen insight into human 
nature that a novelist should possess) marrying a 
man of the Lord Carlyon type— a big, handsome 
animal, whose conversation must have afforded her 
very little entertainment. She loved him because 
to her (to quote the book) he was a ''strong, 
splendid, bold, athletic, masterful creature who was 
hers— hers only!" Is it possible that a woman of 
Delicia Vaughan's alleged intelligence would have 
fallen so completely in love with a man who "was 
absolutely devoid of all ambition, save a desire to 
have his surname pronounced correctly " ? Truly, 
a dull dog— yet Delicia' worshiped him. She dis- 
regarded the apostolic command to little children 
not to take unto themselves idols. She doted on 
this man of inches. She housed and fed him, 
pampered him, showered money on him, and he 
repaid her by indulging in a low intrigue with a 
music-hall dancer. 

Marie Corelli almost laughs at her heroine. But, 
even while the smile hovers on her lips, she ex- 
plains poor Delicia's phantasy. It was ** the rare and 
beautiful blindness of perfect love "—squandered on 
an entirely worthless object. And this is quite a true 
touch, for even lady-novelists are only human. 



212 Marie Corelli 

Delicia had to pay the penalty of her passion. 
Her eyes were opened all in good time, and from 
showering the wealth of her hand and all the 
treasures of her heart upon Carlyon, she came, in 
the end, to threatening him with a revolver when 
he would have healed their differences with a kiss. 

The book, as its title implies, ends sadly. How 
sadly, those who have read it will know, and those 
who may read it hereafter will soon discover, for it 
is quite a little book, and its price but a florin. 

"These are the people," writes Marie Corelli in 
"Ziska," alluding to the tourists assembled in 
Cairo, "who usually leave England on the plea 
of being unable to stand the cheery, frosty, and 
in every respect healthy winter of their native 
country — 

"that winter, which with its wild winds, its spark- 
ling frost and snow, its holly trees bright with 
scarlet berries, its merry hunters galloping over ifield 
and moor during daylight hours, and its great log 
fires roaring up the chimneys at evening, was suf- 
ficiently good for their forefathers to thrive upon 
and live through contentedly up to a hale and hearty 
old age in the times when the fever of traveling 
from place to place was an unknown disease, and 
home was indeed 'sweet home.' Infected by 
strange maladies of the blood and nerves, to which 
even scientific physicians find it hard to give suita- 
ble names, they shudder at the first whiff of cold, 
and, filling huge trunks with a thousand foolish 




KiLLIECRANKIE CoTTAGE " WhERE " ZlSKA " WAS FlNI£HED 




Avon Croft " Where " The Master Christian " was Finishep 



" The Murder of Delicia " and " Ziska " 213 

things which have, through luxurious habit, become 
necessities to their pallid existences, they hastily 
depart to the Land of the Sun, carrying with them 
their nameless languors, discontents, and incurable 
illnesses, for which Heaven itself, much less Egypt, 
could provide no remedy." 

Be that as it may, the tourists assembled at the 
Gezireh Palace Hotel one winter were treated to a 
vision of loveliness which for a time made them 
momentarily forget their nameless languors in spells 
of admiration and envy, according to the sex which 
claimed them, the vision in question taking an ap- 
parently human shape in the person of the Princess 
Ziska. 

Reputedly a Russian lady, Ziska was in reality the 
flesh-clad ghost of Ziska-Charmazel, the favorite 
of the harem of a great Egyptian warrior, described 
in forgotten histories as "The Mighty Araxes." 
Visiting Egypt at the same time as the Princess was 
Armand Gervase, a French painter of great renown, 
and the interest of the story may be imagined when 
it is explained that Armand was the nineteenth- 
century incarnation of Araxes, who, it must be 
understood, had, in the dim long-ago, slain Ziska- 
Charmazel because she stood in the way of his 
ambition. 

The modern Araxes is quickly enslaved by Ziska's 
loveliness, but the passion that consumes him is a 



214 Marie Corelli 

decidedly uncanny one, as the following passage 
will show. Armand is speaking to Helen Murray, 
the sister of his great friend, Denzil Murray. In 
Scotland during the previous summer Armand had 
paid Helen some attentions, and Helen does not fail 
to note that the charms of Ziska have dissipated 
any tender feeling which Armand might have once 
entertained for the Scottish girl. " How was I to 
know," cries Armand, ''that this horrible thing 
would happen?" "What horrible thing?" en- 
quires Helen. 

"This," he answers: "the close and pernicious 
enthralment of a woman I never met till the night 
before last; a woman whose face haunts me; a 
woman who drags me to her side with the force of 
a magnet, there to grovel like a brain-sick fool and 
plead with her for a love which I already know is 
poison to my soul! Helen, Helen! You do not 
understand — you will never understand! Here, in 
the very air I breathe, I fancy I can trace the per- 
fume she shakes from her garments as she moves; 
something indescribably fascinating yet terrible at- 
tracts me to her; it is an evil attraction, I know, 
but I cannot resist it. There is something wicked 
in every man's nature; I am conscious enough that 
there is something detestably wicked in mine, and 
I have not sufficient goodness to overbalance it. 
And this woman,— this silent, gliding, glittering- 
eyed creature that has suddenly taken possession of 
my fancy — she overcomes me in spite of myself; 
she makes havoc of all the good intentions of my 
life. I admit— I confess it! " 



" The Murder of Delicia " and " Ziska " 215 

Unfortunately, the painter's very good friend, 
Denzil Murray, also becomes inspired with a passion 
for Ziska, and the lad's temper is roused when 
Armand openly admits that his intentions with 
regard to the Princess are strictly dishonorable. 
Murray suggests that it were well Ziska should 
know this, but Armand laughs at the other's idea 
that the bringing of such tidings to Ziska's ears 
would lower him one jot in that lovely lady's 
estimation: 

"My good boy, do you not know that there is 
something very marvelous in the attraction we call 
love? It is a preordained destiny, — and if one soul 
is so constituted that it must meet and mix with 
another, nothing can hinder the operation. So that, 
believe me, I am quite indifferent as to what you 
say of me to Madame la Princesse or to any one 
else. It will not be for either my looks or my char- 
acter that she will love me, if, indeed, she ever does 
love me; it will be for something indistinct, in- 
definable, but resistless in us both, which no one 
on earth can explain." 

The hot-headed young Highlander, however, 
will not be put off with any such reasoning, and 
the rivalry might have resulted awkwardly at an 
early date of its upspringin-g had not Armand 
steadfastly refused to quarrel. 

There is one person at the hotel who makes a 
shrewd guess at the spiritual identity of both Ziska 



2i6 Marie Corelli 

and Armand— an old savant named Dr. Dean, who 
is visiting Egypt for the purpose of studying its 
hieroglyphs and other matters possessing interest 
for an antiquarian. A knowing fellow is this 
Doctor, and a fine little character, whose good- 
humored personality and quiet, shrewd observa- 
tions present a soothing contrast to the passionate 
utterances of Murray and Armand, and the dramatic 
outbursts of Ziska when she scornfully taunts the 
painter with his vileness. 

In conversation with the Doctor, Gervase 
Armand admits that there is something about 
Ziska which has struck him as being familiar. 
"The tone of her voice and the peculiar cadence 
of her laughter " affect him peculiarly. When he 
wonders whether he has ever come across her 
before as a model either in Paris or Rome, the 
Doctor shakes his head. "Think again," he says. 
"You are now a man in the prime of life. 
Monsieur Gervase, but look back to your early 
youth, — the period when young men do wild, 
reckless, and often wicked things,— did you ever 
in that thoughtless time break a woman's heart ? " 

Armand admits that he may have done so, and 
the Doctor propounds his theory: 

" Suppose that you^ in your boyhood, had 



" The Murder of Delicia " and " Ziska " 217 

wronged some woman, and suppose that woman 
had died. You might imagine that you had got rid 
of that woman. But if her love was very strong 
and her sense of outrage very bitter, I must tell you 
that you have not got rid of her by any means; 
moreover, you never will get rid of her. And 
why ? Because her Soul, like all Souls, is im- 
perishable. Now, putting it as a mere supposition, 
and for the sake of the argument, that you feel 
a certain admiration for the Princess Ziska, an 
admiration which might possibly deepen into some- 
thing more than platonic, . . ."-—here Denzil 
Murray looked up, his eyes glowing with an angry 
pain as he fixed them on Gervase, — *'why, then 
the Soul of the other woman you once wronged 
might come between you and the face of the new 
attraction and cause you to unconsciously paint the 
tortured look of the injured and unforgiving Spirit 
on the countenance of the lovely fascinator whose 
charms are just beginning to ensnare you. 1 repeat, 
I have known such cases." 



For it should be explained that, when Ziska gave 
the celebrated painter a sitting, he could produce 
nothing on his canvas, in spite of his genius, but a 
strange and awful face distorted with passion and 
pain, agony in every line of the features— " agony 
in which the traces of a divine beauty lingered only 
to render the whole countenance more repellent and 
terrific." 

Dr. Dean quickly comes to the conclusion, and 
very reasonably, that this is the most interesting 
problem he has ever had a chance of studying. 



2i8 Marie Corelli 

It could be only one case out of thousands, he 
decides. 

"Great heavens! Among what terrific unseen 
forces we live! And in exact proportion to every 
man's arrogant denial of the ' Divinity that shapes 
our ends,' so will be measured out to him the revela- 
tion of the invisible. Strange that the human race 
has never entirely realized as yet the depth of the 
meaning in the words describing hell: 'Where 
the worm dieth not, and where the flame is never 
quenched.' The * worm ' is Retribution, the * flame ' 
is the immortal Spirit, — and the two are forever 
striving to escape from the other. Horrible! And 
yet there are men who believe in neither one thing 
nor the other, and reject the Redemption that 
does away with both! God forgive us all our sins 
— and especially the sins of pride and presumption ! " 

Other of the Doctor's thoughtful utterances are 
well worth quoting. *'To the wise student of 
things there is no time and no distance. All 
history from the very beginning is like a wonder- 
ful chain in which no link is ever really broken, and 
in which every part fits closely to the other part, — 
though why the chain should exist at all is a 
mystery we cannot solve. Yet, I am quite certain 
that even our late friend Araxes has his connection 
with the present, if only for the reason that he lived 
in the past." 

Armand asks him how he argues out that theory, 
and the Doctor replies: 



" The Murder of Delicia " and " Ziska " 219 

"The question is, how can you argue at all 
about anything that is so plain and demonstrated a 
fact ? The doctrine of evolution proves it. Every- 
thing that we were once has its part in us now. 
Suppose, if you like, that we were originally no 
more than shells on the shore, — some remnant of 
the nature of the shell must be in us at this moment. 
Nothing is lost, — nothing is wasted, — not even a 
thought. I carry my theories very far indeed, es- 
pecially in regard to matters of love. I maintain 
that if it is decreed that the soul of a man and the 
soul of a woman must meet, — must rush together, 
— not all the forces of the universe can hinder them; 
aye, even if they were, for some conventional cause 
or circumstance, themselves reluctant to consum- 
mate their destiny, it would, nevertheless, despite 
them, be consummated. For mark you, — in some 
form or other they have rushed together before! 
Whether as flames in the air, or twining leaves on a 
tree, or flowers in a field', they have felt the sweet- 
ness and fitness of each other's being in former 
lives, — and the craving sense of that sweetness and 
fitness can never be done away with, — never! Not 
as long as this present universe lasts! It is a ter- 
rible thing," continued the Doctor in a lower tone, 
"a terrible fatality, — the desire of love. In some 
cases it is a curse^; in others, a divine and priceless 
blessing. The results depend entirely on the tem- 
peraments of the human creatures possessed by its 
fever. When it kindles, rises, and burns towards 
Heaven in a steady flame of ever-brightening purity 
and faith, then it makes marriage the most perfect 
union on earth, — the sweetest and most blessed 
companionship; but when it is a mere gust of fire, 
bright and fierce as the sudden leaping light of 
a volcano, then it withers everything at a touch, — 
faith, honor, truth, — and dies into dull ashes in 
which no spark remains to warm or inspire man's 



220 Marie Corelli 

higher nature. Better death than such a love, — for 
it works misery on earth; but who can tell what 
horrors it may not create Hereafter! " 

When the Princess Ziska betakes herself to the 
Mena House Hotel, near the Pyramids, Dr. Dean, 
Gervase Armand, and Denzil Murray follow her. 
She entertains them at dinner, and after dinner, 
while the Doctor and Armand are strolling without, 
Murray puts his fate to the touch, with results 
as might have been expected, for the Princess has 
displayed little emotion in respect to anybody save 
Armand, and in his case it is clear that her interest 
has a malignant foundation. 

Armand comes after him, and, in a passionate 
scene, audaciously proposes to "play the part of 
Araxes over again." Ziska promises to give him 
her answer on the morrow, and on the morrow Ar- 
mand receives it. 

The last scene of this " Problem of a Wicked 
Soul" takes place beneath the Great Pyramid. 
Why and how the modern Araxes and the modern 
Ziska-Charmazel come together in the end in this 
strangest of meeting-places, we will leave the 
reader to discover for him or herself. 

But we may at least record our admiration for the 
feat of imagination of which "Ziska" is the result, 
and indicate the lesson that is to be learned from its 



" The Murder of Delicia " and " Ziska " 22 1 

pages. "Ziska" teaches that sin shall not escape 
punishment, that a man shall not play fast and 
loose with women's hearts and yet go scotfree. 
"Ziska" shows how the mutilated soul of the beau- 
tiful dancer arises after many centuries and exacts 
vengeance from its enemy; and again "Ziska" 
shows how, when Araxes, in his modern painter 
guise, cries for pardon, the eyes of his one-time 
victim soften and flash with love and tenderness. 

Truly a fragrant passage is this, wherein the old 
story is once again told of man's repentance and 
woman's sweet forgiveness. 



CHAPTER XII 

"THE MASTER CHRISTIAN " — IF CHRIST CAME TO ROME! 

There had been a considerable pause in the 
writings of Miss Corelli, for reasons which have al- 
ready been discussed, when, in August, 1900, "The 
Master Christian " appeared. 

Miss Corelli commenced " The Master Christian" 
at Brighton on All Saints' Day, 1897, in the hope 
that she would get through it before the terrible ill- 
ness she had been suffering from for seven years 
reached an acute stage. The novelist, however, 
was almost dying on Christmas Eve of the same 
year, and on December 29th the surgeons took 
her in hand. She was dangerously ill during 
January, February, and March, 1898. In April and 
May Miss Corelli was just beginning to recover 
when the shock occasioned by her stepbrother's 
death on June 2d produced a relapse, and she very 
nearly died from grief and weakness combined. 
She was ill all the rest of the year, and, a long 
period of convalescence following, she did not 
resume "The Master Christian" till the spring of 
1899. 



"The Master Christian" 223 

*'The Master Christian" is Marie Corelli's longest 
work, containing, as it does, over six hundred and 
thirty-four closely printed pages. While occupied 
upon it, the novelist had also to fulfil a long-stand- 
ing engagement with Messrs. Hutchinson & Co. 
" Boy " and ** The Master Christian " were, therefore, 
claiming her attention practically at the same time. 

The writing of the two books under the circum- 
stances was a stupendous undertaking. The effort 
required was so great that she often had to lay 
down her pen and lean back in her chair almost 
fainting from nervous exhaustion caused by the 
severity of the work and its effect upon her in her 
still weak condition. 

It is a painfully interesting proceeding to read 
"The Master Christian" and then a large number 
of the reviews of the book which appeared. The 
conclusion is forced upon one that many of the 
critics had not taken the trouble to perform the 
obvious duty of reading a book that was to be 
"slated," but had merely glanced at a page here, 
and quoted a passage, without the context, there. 
Either this was what happened or there was mis- 
conception of the book through ignorance or delib- 
erate misrepresentation. It is really astounding to 
realize the manner in which Miss Corelli has been 
** criticised," and one notable incident of many 



224 Marie Core Hi 

within our experience will serve to indicate what is 
a too frequent sin. 

It was at the dinner of a well-known literary 
club, and ladies had been invited. One lady sat 
beside a gentleman who, years ago, was editor of a 
great daily newspaper, whose name is familiar to 
all as a notable and experienced journalist and 
critic, and who has arrived at an age when discre- 
tion, if not fairness, should be practiced. The lady 
was a friend of Marie Corelli's, and upon the works 
of the novelist, who was also at the dinner, the 
conversation turned. The critic expressed the ut- 
most contempt for her books, and used language 
so bitterly sarcastic and so grossly unfair that the 
lady gently asked: " Have you really ever read any 
of her works ? " The question was natural. The 
answer was astonishing: it was the bald admission, 
** No." Surely comment is unnecessary. 

A somewhat similar incident may be quoted in 
connection with "Boy." Sir Francis (then Mr.) 
Burnand, as the ** Baron de Bookworms," in Punch, 
said that he considered " Boy " "a work of genius." 
Several critics took his article up, and declared that 
he had never done anything better in the way of 
satire. Miss Corelli thereupon wrote to Burnand 
and asked him if he had really meant his apparently 
generous praise. 



"The Master Christian" 225 

He wrote back: 

" I said it; 1 wrote it; I meant it, every word 
of it. * Press cuttings ' be blowed ! 

"Yours, F. C. BURNAND." 

One writer in the Sunday Sun observed that as 
Burnand had fallen so low as to praise a work of 
Marie Corelli's, he had *'no other remedy but to 
take a bag of stones and break Mr. Punch's win- 
dows!" He added that "he had not read 'Boy* 
and didn't intend to.'' Again, comment would be 
superfluous. The facts speak for themselves and 
show our contention to be correct, /. e., that con- 
demnatory criticisms of Marie Corelli's books are 
written at times by those who do not even read 
them. 

One of the critics who does read what he com- 
ments upon in the way of books, but who, though 
a deep thinker, is sometimes trivial, superficial, and 
even frivolous in his treatment of a subject, is Mr. 
W. T. Stead. He is as amazing to others as others 
very often are to him. He must, we think, have 
been smiling pretty broadly when he wrote: "If 
any one wants to know what * The Master Chris- 
tian ' is like, without reading its six hundred and 
thirty pages, he will not have much difficulty if he 
takes Sheldon's Mn His Steps,' Zola's 'Rome,' and 



226 Marie Corelli 

any of Marie Corelli's previous novels in equal pro- 
portion." A strange suggestion, that! **ln His 
Steps," Zola's "Rome," and an equal proportion 
of, say, either "Vendetta" or "The Sorrows of 
Satan!" Reading the book itself seems to be so 
much more simple — and just. 

Again, Mr. Stead referred to "The Master Chris- 
tian" and to Mrs. Humphrey Ward's "Robert Els- 
mere," and speaking of their great success, he 
wrote: "The phenomenal sale of such works is 
perhaps much more worthy of consideration than 
anything that is to be found within the covers of 
the books themselves." Now the matter for con- 
sideration raised in "The Master Christian" is 
whether Christians, and more especially the Pope 
of Rome and the priests of the Romish Church, 
obey the commands and attempt to fulfil the be- 
hests of Jesus Christ. We should have thought 
Mr. Stead would have regarded that question, at 
any rate, as more important than the mere numer- 
ical sale of a book. Mr. Stead also said that as a 
book the chief fault of "The Master Christian " was 
its lack of sympathy. Yet the whole teaching of 
the work is a Divine charity. "If any man hear 
my words and believe not, I judge him not; for I 
came not to judge the world, but to save the 
world." The chief figure in the book is Manuel, 



"The Master Christian" 227 

Christ once more in the world in the form of a 
child, and if his utterances show a ''lack of sym- 
pathy,"— with lies and superstitious idolatry, — yet 
he speaks largely from the words of Christ and the 
Apostles. Well may it be doubted, with the 
author, whether, if Christ came once more to earth, 
He would be welcome. 

It is said again that "The Master Christian" is a 
bitter attack upon the Roman Catholic Faith. It is 
nothing of the kind. After Manuel, the child- 
Christ, the chief character is that of Cardinal 
Bonpre, who is devoted to the Church of Rome but 
who also believes in Christ, and the two things, 
unhappily, are not always akin. If the man-made 
portion of the Roman Catholic dogma has hidden 
the teachings of Christ on which that Church was 
founded, that is the fault and the misfortune of the 
Church of Rome, and not of Marie Corelli, who is 
bold enough to speak the truth about the matter. 
That faith in God which is her standby is what she 
would wish to see in the ministry of the Roman 
Catholic Church, instead of, as she fears, a mere 
degenerate, priest-built, superstitious reliance upon 
symbolic shams. 

Marie Corelli's personal views may be taken to 
be those to which one of her characters, Aubrey 
Leigh, gives expression : * * I never denied the beauty, 



228 Marie Corelli 

romance, or mysticism of the Roman Catholic 
Faith. If it were purified from the accumulated 
superstition of ages, and freed from intolerance and 
bigotry, it would perhaps be the grandest form of 
Christianity in the world. But the rats are in the 
house, and the rooms want cleaning." She attacks 
neither the Roman Catholic Faith nor even the 
Church. She makes a terrible onslaught upon the 
rats. 

" The Master Christian " is both a novel and a 
sermon. The story of the book is intensely in- 
teresting, in *'plot" clever and original. It is one 
of the refreshing features of Miss Corelli's books 
that the plots always are original. She does not go 
to the British Museum or to the productions of Con- 
tinental novelists to find her themes. Wherever, 
in *'The Master Christian," the mission of the 
book can best be emphasized, even though what 
critics call the **art of the story "—as to which we 
should like something in the nature of a clear 
definition — gives way to it, she pursues the 
mission. After all, we have an idea that if litera- 
ture possesses merit, it is rather because it is 
followed as a means of influencing men's minds 
than as an attempt to write a story, the lines of 
which fall together as harmoniously as do the notes 
of a perfect string band. Such a book if produced 



"The Master Christian" 229 

would, we fancy, be so harmonious that it would 
have no influence to raise men and women to 
think. 

With ''The Master Christian" the reader has 
to think all the time. It is a sermon of great 
power, and the text of it is supplied, as it should 
be, by the fair preacher. It will be remembered 
that in the year 1900 the late Dr. St. George 
Mivart, a priest of the Church of Rome, was in- 
hibited by His Eminence Cardinal Vaughan, on 
account of certain scientific works which were dis- 
pleasing to the Church. Shortly afterwards Dr. 
Mivart died and the Romish Church even denied 
him religious rites of burial. In an " In Memoriam " 
note appended to her "Open letter to Cardinal 
Vaughan" on this subject, Marie Corelli wrote: 
" In the name of the all-loving and merciful Christ, 
whose teachings we, as Christians, profess to 
follow, it is necessary to enter a strong protest 
against this barbarous act in a civilized age, and to 
set it down beside the blind stupidity which ar- 
raigned glorious Galileo, and the fiendish cruelty 
which supported Torquemada. For the words of 
the Divine Master are a command to Churches as 
well as to individuals: * If ye forgive not men their 
trespasses, neither will your Father forgive you 
your trespasses! ' " 



230 Marie Corelli 

We wonder if that saying of Christ's was 
remembered when the ban of excommunication 
was pronounced by the Greek Church against 
Count Leo Tolstoy! We wonder if that saying of 
Christ's is remembered at Rome when any ban of 
excommunication is passed, when religious rites of 
burial are denied to any man! And if the reply 
be that the words do not apply because the Pope 
and his priests commit no trespasses, we can only 
wonder what Christ would say if He came to 
Rome; and, further, we believe that He would say 
much that the child-Christ Manuel utters in **The 
Master Christian." 

The text of the book is that charity and forgive- 
ness — the carrying out of Christ's commands in the 
spirit of the Saviour — should guide mankind to- 
day, that they apply to-day as they did in the days 
of Christ's sojourn on earth, and that the conditions 
of the world to-day are such as render it possible 
for Christians to walk in His steps. In the ''open 
letter" to Cardinal Vaughan, already referred to, 
we find in some of the passages a true insight into 
the spirit of and the aims with which "The 
Master Christian " was written. 

*' My Lord Cardinal," she says, "there are certain 
of us in the world who, overwhelmed by the des- 
perate difficulties of life and the confusion arising 



"The Master Christian" 231 

from numerous doctrines, forms, and ceremonies 
instituted by divers Churches and Sects, are fain to 
fall back from the general hurly-burly, and turn for 
help and refuge to the original Founder of the 
Christian Faith. He, with that grand simplicity 
which expresses Divinity, expounded * the Way, 
the Truth, and the Life,' in words of such plain and 
uninvolved meaning, that the poorest and least 
educated of us all cannot but understand Him. 
Gracious, tender, and always patient and pardon- 
ing, was every utterance of the God amongst us; 
and among all His wise and consoling sayings, 
none are, perhaps, more widely tolerant than this: 
* If any man hear My words and believe not, I 
judge him not; for I came not to judge the world, 
but to save the world.' My Lord Cardinal, there 
are many at this time of day who have so gained 
in a reasonable conception of faith, that when they 
hear the words of Christ delivered to them simply as 
first uttered, they are willing to believe, but hearing 
the edicts of the Church contrasted with those 
words, they 'believe not.' The teachings of Christ 
— Christ only — are so true that they cannot be 
denied; so beautiful that they command our 
reverence; and the Creed of Christ, if honestly 
followed, would make a fair and happy world for 
us all." 

And again, 

"We are somewhat bewildered when we dis- 
cover, by reference to the Gospel, that the Church 
commands us frequently to do precisely what the 
founder of our Faith commanded us not to do. And 
what, we may ask, is the Will of this great Father 
which is in Heaven ? Is it to swear to what our 
own conscience and reason declare to be false } Is 
it to look in the face of Science, the great Heaven- 



232 Marie Corelli 

sent Teacher of our time, and say, * You who have 
taught me, mere pigmy man, to press the lightning 
into my service, to take the weight and measure- 
ment of stars, to send my trifling messages of weal 
or woe on the eternal currents of electric force — 
You, who daily unfold for me the mysteries of 
God's glorious creation — You who teach me that 
the soul of man, immortal and progressive, is 
capable of infinite enlightenment and increasing 
power — You, who expound the majesty, the 
beneficence, the care, the love, the supporting 
influence of the Creator, and bring me to my knees 
in devout adoration — am I to say to You who teach 
me all this that You are a Lie ? ' Am 1 rather to be- 
lieve that a statue made by hands, and set in a 
grotto at Lourdes or elsewhere, is a worthier object 
for my prayer and my praise ? Am I doing God's 
will by believing that my base coin, paid for sundry 
masses in churches, will sway the Creator of the 
Universe to give peace to the departed spirits of my 
dead ? ' " 



Marie Corelli, by the words of Manuel, as we 
think it is recognized, gives a truer interpretation 
of the Divine Will. Even the title page contains 
a quotation from St. Luke that is a protest against 
many of the practices of the Romish and other 
Churches: "Why call ye Me, Lord, Lord, and do 
not the things which I say ? " 

The story of "The Master Christian" opens in 
Rouen, where a Roman Catholic prelate, Cardinal 
Felix Bonpr6, is seen in the Cathedral of Notre 



"The Master Christian" 233 

Dame. This Cardinal is a pious and true man who 
has for many years contented himself with the ad- 
ministration of his diocese and the performance of 
good work. His Rouen visit is a portion of a tour 
of several months taken for purposes of health, and 
with the object of judging for himself how the 
great world, of which he has seen little, is faring, 
"whether on the downward road to destruction 
and death, or up to the high ascents of progress and 
life." The farther he travels the more depressed he 
becomes by the results of his observations. Within 
Rouen Cathedral Cardinal Bonpre hears singularly 
soothing music, though whence it comes he is un- 
able to perceive. He is impressed with a peculiar 
sense of some divine declaration of God's absolute 
omniscience, and a question seems to be whispered 
in his ears: 

" When the Son of Man cometh, think ye He 
shall find faith on earth ? " 

With his growing experience of the confusion 
and trouble of the world, the Cardinal is forced to 
the conclusion that there is an increasing lack of 
faith in God and a Hereafter; and of the reason for 
it he thinks: "We have failed to follow the Mas- 
ter's teaching in its true perfection. We have 
planted in ourselves a seed of corruption, and we 
have permitted — nay, some of us have encouraged 



234 



Marie Corelli 



— its poisonous growth till it now threatens to con- 
taminate the whole field of labor." 

Cast down by these reflections, the good Cardinal 
proceeds to the Hotel Poitiers, a modest hostelry 
preferred by him to the Palace of the Archbishop 
of Rouen, another "Prince of the Church," a term 
which Cardinal Bonpre— like Miss Corelli — finds 
particularly detestable, especially when used in con- 
nection with a Christian Church wherein she thinks 
distinctive ranks are a mistake and even Anti- 
Christian. 

At the inn a striking picture is drawn by the 
novelist of the evil effect upon the children of 
France brought about by the removal of religious 
instruction from the schools. The two charmingly 
precocious children of Jean and Madame Patoux 
are quite old in agnostic views and doubts. There 
also Bonpre has his first serious religious argument 
with the Archbishop of Rouen, whom he astonishes 
by declaring that the Church herself is responsible 
for the increase of ungodliness. 

"If our Divine faith were lived Divinely there 
would be no room for heresy or atheism. The 
Church itself supplies the loophole for apostasy. 
. . . In the leading points of creed I am very 
steadfastly convinced;— namely, that Christ was 
Divine, and that the following of His Gospel is the 
saving of the immortal soul. But if you ask me 



"The Master Christian" 235 

whether I think that we (the Church of Rome) do 
truly follow that Gospel, I must own that I have 
doubts upon the matter." 



We are informed here, also, through Cardinal 
Bonpr6, of what Marie Corelli means by Paulism. 
Ministers of religion, he declares, should literally 
obey all Christ's commands: 

"The Church is a system, — but whether it is as 
much founded on the teaching of our Lord, who 
was Divine, as on the teaching of St. Paul, who 
was not divine, is a question to me of much per- 
plexity. ... I do not decry St. Paul. He was 
a gifted and clever man, but he was a Man — he was 
not God-in-Man. Christ's doctrine leaves no place 
for differing sects; St. Paul's method of applying 
that doctrine serves as authority for the establish- 
ment of any and every quarrelsome sect ever 
known. . . . I do not think we fit the Church 
system to the needs of modern civilization . . . 
we only offer vague hopes and dubious promises to 
those who thirst for the living waters of salvation 
and immortality." 

Cardinal Bonpre that night has a vision of the end 
of the world, and in his agony at the spectacle he 
cries: "Have patience yet. Thou outraged and 
blasphemed Creator! Break once again Thy silence 
as of old, and speak to us! Pity us once again, 
ere Thou slay us utterly! Come to us even as 
Thou camest in Judea, and surely we will receive 



236 Marie Corclli 

Thee and obey Thee, and reject Thy love no more." 
And a divine voice replies: "Thy prayer is heard, 
and once again the silence shall be broken. Never- 
theless, remember that the light shineth in Dark- 
ness, and the Darkness comprehendeth it not." At 
this juncture a plaintive cry falls on his ears, and he 
goes out into the night to discover the cause. He 
proceeds to the Cathedral, and there, in the deeply 
hollowed portal, discovers the slight shrinking 
figure of a child — 

"A boy's desolate little figure, — with uplifted 
hands clasped appealingly and laid against the shut 
cathedral aoor, and face hidden and pressed hard 
upon those hands, as though in mute and incon- 
solable despair. . . . 

'My poor child, what troubles you? Why are 
you fiere all alone, and weeping at this late hour? 
Have you no home ? — no parents ? ' 

"Slowly the boy turned round, still resting his 
small delicate hands against the oaken door of the 
Cathedral, and with the tears yet wet upon his 
cheeks, smiled. What a sad face he had! — worn 
and weary, yet beautiful! — what eyes, heavy with 
the dews of sorrow, yet tender even in pain! 
Startled by the mingled purity and grief on so young 
a countenance, the Cardinal retreated for a moment 
in amaze, — then, approaching more closely, he re- 
peated his former question with increased interest 
and tenderness — 

' Why are you weeping here alone ? ' 

* Because 1 am left alone to weep! ' said the boy, 
answering in a soft voice of vibrating and musical 
melancholy. ' For me, the world is empty! . . . 



"The Master Christian" 237 

1 should have rested here within,— but it is closed 
against me!' 

* The doors are always locked at night, my child,' 
returned the Cardinal, 'but I can give you shelter. 
Will you come with me ? ' 

'Will I come with you ? Nay, but I see you are 
a Cardinal of the Church, and it is I should ask ' will 
you receive me ? ' You do not know who I am — 
nor where I came from, and 1, alas! may not tell 
you! I am alone; all — all alone, — for no one knows 
me in the world; — 1 am quite poor and friendless, 
and have nothing wherewith to pay you for your 
kindly shelter — 1 can only bless you! ' " 

Thus the second coming of Christ, according to 
Marie Corelli. 

Manuel is then taken entirely under the protection 
of Cardinal Bonpre, and the two become insepara- 
ble. At all times the lad talks with wonderful elo- 
quence and power — as Marie Corelli thinks Christ 
would talk if He were a child amongst us, and as 
He did talk when astonishing the learned doctors 
of law in Jerusalem. Before he and the Cardinal 
leave the Hotel Poitiers a miracle is performed. In 
Rouen there is a lad, Fabien Doucet, who has a 
bent spine and a useless leg. The unbelieving 
Patoux youngsters bring little Fabien to the Cardi- 
nal, and ask him to cure the lad. Beside the Cardi- 
nal stands Manuel. The incident is introduced by 
Marie Corelli in order to emphasize her own belief 
in the power of prayer— prayer that is sincere, the 



238 Marie Corelli 

expression of faith that is true. The story of the 
miracle is very beautiful, especially for the spirit in 
which the good Cardinal performs the duty that the 
children ask of him. He addresses Fabien: 



" My poor child, I want you to understand quite 
clearly how sorry I am for you, and how willingly 
I would do anything in the world to make you a 
strong, well, and happy boy. But you must not 
fancy that I can cure you. I told your little friends 
yesterday that 1 was not a saint, such as you read 
about in story-books, — and that I could not work 
miracles, because I am not worthy to be so filled 
with the Divine Spirit as to heal with a touch like 
the better servants of our Blessed Lord. Neverthe- 
less 1 firmly believe that if God saw that it was 
good for you to be strong and well. He would find 
ways to make you so. Sometimes sickness and 
sorrow are sent to us for our advantage, — some- 
times even death comes to us for our larger benefit, 
though we may not understand how it is so till 
afterwards. But in heaven everything will be made 
clear; and even our griefs will be turned into joys, 
— do you understand.?" 

** Yes," murmured Fabien gravely, but two large 
tears welled up in his plaintive eyes as the faint 
glimmer of hope he had encouraged as to the possi- 
bility of his being miraculously cured by the touch 
of a saintly Cardinal, expired in the lonely darkness 
of his little afflicted soul. 

"That is well," continued the Cardinal kindly— 
" And now, since it is so difficult for you to kneel, 
you shall stay where you are in my arms, — so! — " 
and he set him on his knee in a position of even 
greater comfort than before. ** You shall simply 
shut your eyes, and clasp your little hands together, 



"The Master Christian" 239 

as I put them here," — and as he spoke he crossed 
the cnild's hands on his silver crucifix — " And I will 
ask our Lord to come and make you well, — for of 
myself I can do nothing." 

At these words Henri and Babette glanced at each 
other questioningly, and then, as if simultaneously 
moved by some' inexplicable emotion, dropped 
on their knees, — their mother, too stout and un- 
wieldy to do this with either noiselessness or satis- 
faction to herself, was contented to bend her head 
as low as she could get it. Manuel remained stand- 
ing. Leaning against the Cardinal's chair, his eyes 
fixed on the crippled Fabien, he had the aspect of a 
young angel of compassion, whose sole immortal 
desire was to lift the burden of sorrow and pain 
from the lives of suffering humanity. And after a 
minute or two passed in silent meditation, the Car- 
dinal laid his hands tenderly on Fabien's fair curly 
head and prayed aloud. 

**0h merciful Christ! .Most pitying and gentle 
Redeemer!— to Whom in the days of Thy sacred 
life on earth, the sick and suffering and lame 
and blind were brought, and never sent away un- 
healed or uncomforted; consider, we beseech Thee, 
the sufferings of this Thy little child, deprived of all 
the joys which Thou hast made so sweet for those 
who are strong and straight in their youth, and 
who have no ailment to depress their courage or to 
quench the ardor of their aspiring souls. Look 
compassionately upon him, oh gentle King and 
Master of all such children! — and even as Thou 
wert a child Thyself, be pleased to heal him of his 
sad infirmity. For, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make 
this bent body straight and these withered muscles 
strong, — from death itself Thou canst ordain life, 
and nothing is impossible to Thee! But above all 
things, gracious Saviour, we do pray Thee so to lift 
and strengthen this child's soul, that if it is destined 



240 Marie Corelli 

he should still be called upon to bear his present 
pain and trouble, grant to him such perfection in 
his inward spirit that he may prove worthy to 
be counted among Thy angels in the bright Here- 
after. To Thy care, and to Thy comfort, and 
to Thy healing, great Master, we commend him, 
trusting him entirely to Thy mercy, with perfect 
resignation to Thy Divine Will. For the sake and 
memory of Thy most holy childhood, mercifully 
help and bless this child! Amen! " 

As Fabien Doucet hobbles away at the conclusion 
of this prayer, the Cardinal, speaking from his 
heart, declares that if the giving of his own life 
could make the lad strong he would willingly sac- 
rifice it. Then Manuel moves from his place near 
the Cardinal's chair, approaches the little cripple, 
and, putting his arms round him, kisses him on the 
forehead. 



" Good-bye, dear little brother!" he said, smiling 
— " Do not be sad! Have patience! In all the uni- 
verse, among all the millions and millions of worlds, 
there is never a pure and unselfish prayer that the 
great good God does not answer! Be sure of that! 
Take courage, dear little brother! You will soon be 
well!" 

Sweet assurance, truly, for the afflicted one. 
Shortly afterwards the Cardinal and Manuel depart 
from Rouen. They have not been long gone when 
there comes the startling announcement from 



"The Master Christian" 241 

Fabien Doucet's mother that the boy is cured, and, 
to prove it, little Fabien, the former cripple, speeds 
gaily to the home of the Patoux family, strong and 
well. 

Unconscious of the remarkable cure that has 
awed and amazed the townsfolk of Rouen, the 
Cardinal, accompanied by Manuel, proceeds to Paris 
and to the residence of his niece, Angela Sovrani, 
an artist famous throughout Europe. In Paris 
many interesting persons are brought together, 
mainly in Angela Sovrani's studio. One remarkable 
character is the Abbe Vergniaud, a brilliant 
preacher, witty, eloquent, and sarcastic, but an 
atheist for all that. In his conversations with An- 
gela he endeavors to justify his position, but the 
girl insists upon the depressing and wretched nature 
of his soulless creed. Vergniaud frankly admits 
his unbelief to Cardinal Bonpre. He also makes 
a confession and a declaration. In his early days, 
twenty-five years before, he had betrayed and de- 
serted a woman, long since dead. Her son, how- 
ever, has grown to manhood with the determina- 
tion to avenge the mother's wrong, and the Abbe 
goes in daily fear of assassination at his hands. 
Yet the Abbe Vergniaud shows that he is far from 
being a wholly evil man. He declares his determi- 
nation to retrieve the past so far as he can and 



242 Marie Corelli 

to clear his son's soul from the thirst for vengeance 
that is consuming it. 

On one occasion Vergniaud declares that Paris is 
hopelessly pagan, that Christ is there made the sub- 
ject of public caricature, that His reign is over — in 
Paris at least. 

" If these things be true," Cardinal Bonpre indig- 
nantly cries, ''then shame upon you and upon all 
the clergy of this unhappy city to stand by and let 
such disgrace to yourselves, and blasphemy to our 
Master, exist without protest." 

The Abbe is inclined to resent the rebuke, but 
only for a moment. The next, abashed, he admits 
its justice, and craves pardon. The incident is the 
turning point in Vergniaud's life. He shortly after- 
wards writes to the Cardinal that he is moved to 
say things that he has never said before, and that it 
is possible he may astonish and perchance scandal- 
ize Paris. 

"What inspires me I do not know, — perhaps 
your well-deserved reproach of the other day, — per- 
haps the beautiful smile of the angel that dwells in 
Donna Sovrani's eyes, — perhaps the chance meeting 
with your Rouen foundling on the stairs as I was 
flying away from your just wrath." 

He concludes by requesting the Cardinal to come 
two days later to hear him preach at Notre Dame 
de Lorette. 



"The Master Christian" 243 

In his letter to the Cardinal, the Abbe Vergniaud 
mentions that Manuel has given him a rose, and the 
mention of this to the child-Christ gives us a charm- 
ing fancy as to the floral beauties of Heaven. 

** Flowers," said the Cardinal, commenting on 
the gift, "are like visible messages from God. 
Messages written in all the brightest and loveliest 
colors! 1 never gather one without finding out 
that it has something to say to me." 

"There is a legend," said Manuel, "that tells how 
a poor girl who has lost every human creature she 
loved on earth, had a rose-tree she was fond of, 
and every day she found upon it just one bloom. 
And though she longed to gather the flower for 
herself she would not do so, but always placed it 
before the picture of the Christ. And God saw her 
do this, as He sees everything. At last, quite sud- 
denly, she died, and whfen she found herself in 
heaven, there were such crowds and crowds of 
angels about her that she was bewildered, and 
could not find her way. All at once she saw a 
pathway edged with roses before her, and one of 
the angels said, * there are all the roses you gave to 
our Lord on earth, and He has made them into a 
pathway for you which will lead you straight to 
those you love!' And so with great joy she fol- 
lowed the windings of the path, seeing her roses 
blossoming all the way, and she found all those 
whom she had loved and lost on earth waiting to 
welcome her at the end! " 

Here is another sweet thought which Marie 
Corelli gives us in the words of Manuel: 

"You know now," he tells Angela Sovrani, " be- 



244 Marie Corelli 

cause your wise men are beginning to prove it, that 
you can in very truth send a message to heaven. 
Heaven is composed of millions of worlds. * in My 
Father's house are many mansions!' And from all 
worlds to all worlds, and from mansion to mansion, 
the messages flash! And there are those who re- 
ceive them, with such directness as can admit of no 
error! And your wise men might have known this 
long ago if they had believed their Master's word, 
* Whatsoever is whispered in secret shall be pro- 
claimed on the housetops.' But you will all find 
out soon that it is true, and that everything you say, 
and that every prayer you utter, God hears.'' 

"My mother is in Heaven," said Angela wist- 
fully, *'I wish I could send her a message!" 

''Your very wish has reached her now!" said 
Manuel. ''How is it possible that you, in the 
spirit, could wish to communicate with one so be- 
loved and she not know it ? Love would be no use 
then, and there would be a grave flaw in God's 
perfect creation." 

"Then you think we never lose those we love ? 
And that they see us and hear us always ?" 

"They must do so," said Manuel, "otherwise 
there would be cruelty in creating the grace of love 
at all. But God Himself is Love. Those who love 
truly can never be parted — death has no power 
over their souls. If one is on earth and one in 
heaven, what does it matter.? If they were in 
separate countries of the world they could hear 
news of each other from time to time, — and so they 
can when apparent death has divided them." 

" How?" asked Angela with quick interest. 

"Your wise men must tell you," said Manuel, 
with a grave little smile, "I know no more than 
what Christ has said, — and He told us plainly that 
not even a sparrow shall fall to the ground without 
our Father's knowledge. 'Fear not,' He said, 'Ye 



"The Master Christian" 245 

are more than many sparrows.' So, as there is 
nothing which is useless, and nothing which is 
wasted, it is very certain that love, which is the 
greatest of all things, cannot lose what it loves! " 

It is worthy of note that, on account of "The 
Master Christian," in spite of the teachings in it 
such as we have quoted, the author has been 
labeled an "atheist." 



CHAPTER XIII 

"THE MASTER CHRISTIAN" — {Continued) 

Of many interesting incidents which mark the 
Cardinal's stay in Paris, the most sensational is the 
sermon of the Abbe Vergniaud and the extraordi- 
nary scene at its close. 

Marie Corelli gives a wonderfully realistic word- 
picture of the scene in the famous church on a 
notable occasion. The Abbe's sermon, which ap- 
pears in its entirety, is scathingly sarcastic. In it 
he bitterly denounces the hypocrisy alike of people 
and of churches, especially the Roman Catholic 
Church, which he attacks for the ban it places upon 
many things, even discussion; he declares that all 
the intellectual force of the country is arrayed 
against priestcraft, and that the spirit of an insolent, 
witty, domineering atheism and materialism rules 
us all. " But what I specially wish to advise you — 
taking myself as an example — is, that none of you, 
whether inclined to virtue or to vice, should remain 
such arrant fools as to imagine that your sins will 
not find you out." 

246 



"The Master Christian" 247 

And then the Abbe makes open confession, be- 
fore the congregation, of his past life. 

**I was a priest of the Romish Church as I am 
now; it would never have done for a priest to be a 
social sinner! I therefore took every precaution to 
hide my fault; — but out of my lie springs a living 
condemnation; from my carefully concealed hypoc- 
risy comes a blazonry of truth, and from my secret 
sin comes an open vengeance. , . ." 

The report of a pistol shot sounds through the 
church as the last words are uttered. A young 
man has fired at the preacher. It is the son seeking 
his vengeance at last. Manuel prevents the bullet 
from reaching Vergniaud, who immediately an- 
nounces to the astonished congregation that he will 
not make a charge: **I decline to prosecute my 
own flesh and blood. I will be answerable for his 
future conduct, — I am entirely answerable for his 
past! He is my son! " 

It is upon the persecution of Cardinal Bonpre in 
consequence of the attitude he adopts towards the 
Abbe Vergniaud after this sensational incident that 
Marie Corelli builds her chief indictment of the Vati- 
can executive. An agent of the Vatican, then in 
Paris, is Monsignor Moretti. He calls at the Sov- 
rani Palace. There he has an interview with the 
Cardinal, the Abbe, and the latter's son Cyrillon. 
Moretti upbraids Vergniaud for his conduct, cor- 



248 Marie Corelli 

rectly describing him as a faithless son of the 
church, and meets with the retort, ** The attack on 
the Church I admit. I am not the only preacher in 
the world who has so attacked it. Christ Himself 
would attack it if He were to visit this earth again! " 
The remark is characterized as blasphemy, but, on 
the Cardinal being appealed to, the good Bonpre 
states his failure to perceive the alleged blasphemy 
of " our unhappy and repentant brother." 

" In his address to his congregation to-day he de- 
nounced social hypocrisy, and also pointed out cer- 
tain failings in the Church which may possibly need 
consideration and reform; but against the Gospel 
of Christ or against the Founder of our Faith I heard 
no word that could be judged ill-fitting. As for the 
conclusion which so very nearly ended in disaster 
and crime, there is nothing to be said beyond the 
fact that both the persons concerned are profoundly 
sorry for their sins. . . . Surely we must be- 
lieve the words of our Blessed Lord, ' There is more 
joy in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than 
over ninety-and-nine just persons which have no 
need of repentance.' " 

This forgiveness of sin which Christ preached and 
which Marie Corelli claims that the Romish Church 
does not practice, is the basis of the differences of 
Cardinal Bonpre with Moretti, and afterwards with 
the Pope. Vergniaud, still unrebuked by Cardinal 
Bonpre, declares to Moretti that there is a move- 
ment in the woii4 which all the powers of Rome 



"The Master Christian" 249 

are unable fo cope with, the movement of an ever- 
advancing and resistless force called Truth, and 
that God will shake down Rome rather than that 
the voice of Truth should be silenced. 

The Abbe's declarations, as the Vatican emissary 
points out, mean his expulsion from the Church. 
Before the interview closes there comes the declara- 
tion by Cyrillon Vergniaud, the son of the Abbe, 
that he is '' Gys Grandit," a powerful writer of es- 
says that are the creed of a " Christian Democratic" 
party— that advocate of Truth to which the Abbe 
had referred. The announcement is startling to all 
three clerics, the more so as the young man pro- 
ceeds to utter his views, a stern denunciation of the 
Church's practices, with such rebukes as: **Does 
not the glittering of the world's wealth piled into 
the Vatican,— useless wealth lying idle in the midst 
of hideous beggary and starvation, — proclaim with 
no uncertain voice, * / know not the Man ' ? " with 
the added declaration that there is no true represent- 
ative of Christ in this world— either within or 
without the Romish Church— though even sceptics, 
while denying Christ's Divinity, are forced to own 
that His life and His actions were more Divine than 
those of any other creature in human shape that 
has ever walked the earth ! 
In the further argumentative passes between 



250 Marie Corelli 

Moretti and Gys Grandit, the former holds that the 
Church of Rome is a system of moral government, 
and that it is proper to thrust out of salvation here- 
tics who are excommunicate, and that if our Lord's 
commands were to be obeyed to the letter it would 
be necessary to find another world to live in. These 
propositions the Christian Democrat absolutely de- 
nies, and urges, on the other hand, that it may be 
possible that we may be forced to obey Christ's 
commands to the letter or perish for refusing to do 
so. For permitting such remarks to go unreproved, 
Moretti, as the interview closes, intimates that, in 
reporting the matter to the Pope, the attitude of 
Cardinal Bonpre will be explained. Further of- 
fense is given by the appearance of Manuel upon 
the scene, and by some remarks the lad makes upon 
the subject under discussion. 

Clouds are gathering heavily over the horizon of 
the saintly Bonpre, who, accompanied by Manuel, 
proceeds to Rome after this most unpropitious pre- 
liminary to an audience at the Vatican. He is 
further troubled, immediately after his arrival at the 
palace of his brother-in-law. Prince Sovrani, by 
being informed of the ''miracle'' of Rouen— the 
recovery of Fabien Doucet, of which he now hears 
for the first time, though all Rome has been talking 
loudly of it. Bonpre is decidedly in bad repute at 



"The Master Christian" 251 

the Vatican, and it is determined that he shall be 
made to suffer for his defense of Vergniaud. He 
adds to his offenses by denying all knowledge of 
the Rouen lad's cure. 

Manuel and Bonpre visit St. Peter's, which does 
not please them, and at last they are received by 
the Pope. Here all Marie Corelli's criticism of the 
Romish Church is concentrated in the appeal which 
is made by the child-Christ to His Holiness. He 
asks him why he stops at the Vatican all alone. 

" You must be very unhappy! . . . To be here 
all alone, and a whole world outside waiting to be 
comforted! To have vast wealth lying about you 
unused, with millions and millions of poor, starv- 
ing, struggling dying creatures, near at hand, curs- 
ing the God whom they have never been taught to 
know or to bless! . . . 

"Come out with me! " continued Manuel, his ac- 
cents vibrating with a strange compelling sweetness, 
" come out and see the poor lying at the great gates 
of St. Peter's — the lame, the halt, the blind — come 
and heal them by a touch, a prayer! You can, you 
must, you shall heal them! — if you will! Pour 
money into the thin hands of the starving! — come 
with me into the miserable places of the world — 
come and give comfort! Come freely into the 
courts of kings, and see how the brows ache under 
the crowns! — how the hearts break beneath the 
folds of velvet and ermine! Why stand in the way 
of happiness, or deny even emperors peace when 
they crave it ? Your mission is to comfort, not to 
condemn! You need no throne! You want no 
kingdom! — no settled place — no temporal power! 



252 Marie Corelli 

Enough for you to work and live as the poorest of 
all Christ's ministers, — without pomp, without os- 
tentation or public ceremonial, but simply clothed 
in pure holiness! So shall God love you more! 
So shall you pass unscathed through the thick of 
battle, and command Brotherhood in place of Mur- 
der! Go out and welcome Progress! — take Science 
by the hand! — encourage Intellect! — for all these 
things are of God, and are God's gifts divine! Live 
as Christ lived, teaching the people personally and 
openly; — loving them, pitying them, sharing their 
joys and sorrows, blessing their little children! 
Deny yourself to no man; — and make of this cold 
temple in which you now dwell self-imprisoned, a 
home and refuge for the friendless and the poor! 
Come out with me! 

" Come out with me and minister with your own 
hands to the aged and the dying! " pursued Manuel, 
"and so shall you grow young! Command that 
the great pictures, the tapestries, the jewels, the 
world's trash of St. Peter's, be sold to the rich, who 
can afford to place them in free and open galleries 
where all the poorest may possess them! But do 
not You retain them! You do not need them — 
your treasure must be sympathy for all the world! 
Not one section of the world, — not one form of 
creed, — but for all!— if you are truly the Dispenser 
of Christ's Message to the earth! Come — unpro- 
tected, save by the Cross! Come with no weapon 
of defense — * heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise 
the dead, cast out devils! Freely ye have received, 
freely give! Provide neither gold nor silver nor 
brass in your purse,' — come, and by your patience 
— your gentleness — your pardon — your love to all 
men, show that 'the Kingdom of Heaven is at 
hand!' Walk fearless in the thick of battles, and 
your very presence shall engender peace! For the 
Holy Spirit shall surround and encompass you; the 



"The Master Christian" 253 

fiercest warriors shall bend before you, as they 
never would if you assumed a world's throne or a 
world's sovereignty! Come, uncrowned, defense- 
less; — but strong in the Spirit of God! Think of 
all the evil which has served as the foundation for 
this palace in which you dwell! Can you not hear 
in the silence of the night, the shrieks of the tor- 
tured and dying of the Inquisition ? Do you never 
think of the dark days, ten and twelve hundred 
years after Christ, when no virtue seemed left upon 
the earth ? — when the way to this very throne was 
paved by poison and cold steel ? — when those who 
then reigned here, and occupied Your place, led 
such infamous lives that the very dogs might have 
been ashamed to follow in their footsteps! — when 
they professed to be able to sell the Power of the 
Holy Ghost for so much gold and silver? Remem- 
ber the words, ' Whoso shall blaspheme against the 
Holy Ghost it shall not be forgiven him, either in 
this world or in the world to come.' Look back 
upon the Past — and look out upon the Present! 
Try to understand the suffering of the forsaken 
people! — the pain — the bewilderment — the groping 
for life in death! — and come out with me! Come 
and preach Christ as He lived and died, and was, 
and is / 

" Come out with me . . . for there are won- 
derful things in the world to-day! — wonderful, 
beautiful, and terrible! Take your share in them, 
and find God in every glory! For with all the wis- 
dom and the splendor, — with all the flashing light 
of Heaven poured out upon the darkness of the 
Sorrowful Star, its people are weary, — they are lost 
in the confusion and clamor of their own desires — 
they would fain serve God, but know not where to 
find Him, because a thousand, ay a million churches 
stand in the way! Churches, which are like a for- 
est of dark trees, blocking out the radiance of the 



254 Marie Corelli 

Sun! God, who manifests His power and tender- 
ness in the making of the simplest leaf, the smallest 
bird, is lost to the understanding and affection of 
humanity in the multitude of Creeds! Come out 
with me, — simple and pure, gentle and strong! 
Tell all the lost and the wandering that there never 
was, and never will be but one God supreme and 
perfect, whose name is Love, whose work is Love! 
— and whose Messenger, Christ, pronounced the 
New Commandment Love, instead of Hate! Come 
out with me while it is yet day, for the night Com- 
eth when no man can work! Come and lift up the 
world by your very coming! Stretch out your 
hands in benediction over kings and beggars alike! 
— there are other roses to give than Golden ones to 
Queens! There are poor women who share half 
they earn with those still poorer — there are obscure 
lives which in their very obscurity, are forming the 
angel-nature, and weaving the angel's crown, — 
look for these in the world — give them your Golden 
Roses! Leave rulers and governments alone, for 
you should be above and beyond all rulers and 
governments! You should be the Herald of peace, 
the Pardoner of sin, the Rescuer of the fallen, and 
the Refuge of the distressed! Come out with me, 
and be all this to the world, so that when the Mas- 
ter comes He may truly find you working in His 
vineyard! 

"Come out with me . . . or if you will not 
come, — then beware! . . . beware of the evil 
days which are at hand! The people are wander- 
ing to and fro, crossing all lands, struggling one 
against the other, hoarding up useless gold, and 
fighting for supremacy! — but 'the day of the Lord 
shall come like a thief in the night, and blessed is 
he who shall be found watching!' Watch! The 
hour is growing dark and full of menace! — the na- 
tions are as frightened children, losing faith, losing 



"The Master Christian" 255 

hope, losing strength! Put away, — put away from 
you the toys of time! — quench in your soul the 
thirst for gold, for of this shall come nothing but 
corruption! Why trifle with the Spirit of holy 
things? Why let your servants use the Name of 
the Most High to cover hypocrisy ? Why crave for 
the power of temporal things, which passes away 
in the dust of destroyed kingdoms ? For the PoweV 
of the Spirit is greater than all! And so it shall be 
proved! The Spirit shall work in ways where it 
has never been found before! — it shall depart from 
the Churches which are unworthy of its Divine 
inspiration! — it shall invest the paths of science! — 
it shall open the doors of the locked stars! It shall 
display the worlds invisible; — the secrets of men's 
hearts, and of closed graves! — there will be terror 
and loss and confusion and shame to mankind, — 
and this world shall keep nothing of all its treasures 
but the Cross of Christ! Rome, like Babylon, shall 
fall! — and the Powers of the Church shall'be judged 
as the Powers of Darkness rather than of Light, be- 
cause they have rejected the Word of their Master, 
and 'teach for doctrine the commandments of 
men'! Disaster shall follow swift upon disaster, 
and the cup of trembling shall be drained again to 
its last dregs, as in the olden days, unless, — unless 
perchance — You will come out with Me! " 

This address has such an effect on the Pope 
that at its conclusion he falls senseless. Bonpr6 
and Manuel, the former now without a friend 
left at the Vatican, take their departure, and shortly 
afterwards it is deemed expedient for them to 
leave Rome for shelter in England, the idea being 
intimated that the authorities of the Church were 



256 Marie Corelli 

determined to make a prisoner of the Cai Jnal, and 
inflict upon him some undefined evil. 

So far as the book is concerned apart from its 
central theme, the interest is held by the light 
touches of the loves of some charming people, 
and also of a very frivolous roue, the Marquis 
Fontenelle. This very " up-to-date " French noble- 
man is ultimately, to the relief of every one and 
the regret of few, killed in a duel with his own 
brother, the great actor Miraudin. To make this 
melodramatic incident as striking as possible the 
author kills both the brothers. The Marquis is 
a character who says and does what would seem 
to be impossible things. Notwithstanding his 
immoral propensities he has a certain pleasing 
fascination that almost inclines one to regard his 
faults with tolerance. His faults are many, but 
let it be said to his credit at least that he recognizes 
them. His views of men and women and love 
are extraordinarily callous and cynical, yet it is an 
absolute fact that the prototype of the Marquis 
Fontenelle exists, and holds and openly expresses 
the views to which in this book he is made 
to give utterance. And, evil as he is, he also is 
conquered at the last by the true character of a 
sweet, pure, womanly woman. It is such who 
conquer all evil. 



" The Master Christian " I57 

The Comtfesse Sylvie Hermenstein, an altogether 
delightful lady, marries Aubrey Leigh and leaves 
the Church of Rome. The story of her doing so, 
of the struggles of the Romish priesthood to retain 
her and her wealth, and of the methods by which 
they endeavored to attain that end, is in itself a 
stirring narrative. 

Marie Corelli is altogether pleasing, not only to 
those who approve the mission of her book, but 
to many of her most severe critics, in her account 
of the life which Leigh in younger days had led in 
a Cornish fishing village, working as one of them- 
selves amongst the rugged, true-hearted, brave men 
who with all their roughness of character are per- 
haps stauncher in a simple faith in God than many 
of those who ostentatiously worship in fine 
churches. She pens, too, many delightful, humor- 
ous, and pathetic pictures of the French peasantry. 

Quite another story is the love, or, rather, two 
loves, of Angela Sovrani. When we first make 
her acquaintance— a woman, yet one of the finest 
artists in the world — she is betrothed to Florian 
Varillo, a man with a character of almost im- 
possible evil. We wish we could regard the char- 
acter as absolutely impossible. Varillo is also an 
artist, handsome, unprincipled, egotistical to the 
worst degree, believing himself great and holding 



258 Marie Corelli 

the view — once generally held, but now to a large 
extent exploded — that woman's work cannot be 
equal to masculine effort. Angela has for years 
been engaged upon a picture which she hopes will 
be a masterpiece. No person — not even father or 
lover — has been permitted to gaze upon the canvas. 
A date for the uncovering and inspection of the 
picture is fixed. Alone in her studio the evening 
before, Florian begs admittance in order that he 
may inspect the picture that night, owing to a 
journey which he must take early on the morrow. 
Angela consents. "Come and see." The conceal- 
ing curtain is removed and Florian recoils with an 
involuntary cry, and then remains motionless and 
silent, stricken dumb and stupid by the magnificent 
creation which confronts him. 

"The central glory of the whole picture was a 
figure of Christ. . . . Kingly and command- 
ing." Near by are seen the faces of many pre- 
eminent in the history of the time. The Pope is 
shown fastening fetters of iron round a beautiful 
youth called Science. The leader of the Jesuits is 
counting gold. The forms of men representing 
every description of Church-doctrine are beheld 
trampling underneath them other human creatures. 

"And over all this blackness and chaos the su- 



"The Master Christian" 259 

pernal figure of the glorious Christ was aerially 
poised, — one Hand was extended, and to this a 
Woman clung — a woman with a beautiful face 
made piteous in its beauty by long grief and patient 
endurance. In her other arm she held a sleeping 
child — and mother and child were linked together 
by a garland of flowers partially broken and faded. 
Her entreating attitude, — the sleeping child's help- 
lessness — her worn face, — the perishing roses of 
earth's hope and joy, — all expressed their meaning 
simply yet tragically; and as the Divine Hand sup- 

Corted and drew her up out of the universal chaos 
elow, the hope of a new world, a better world, a 
wiser world, a holier world, seemed to be distantly 
conveyed. But the eyes of the Christ were full of 
reproach, and were bent on the Representative of 
St. Peter binding the laurel-crowned youth, and 
dragging him into darkness, — and the words writ- 
ten across the golden mount of the picture, in clear 
black letters, seemed to be actually spoken aloud 
from the vivid color and movement of the painting. 
' Many in that day will call upon Me and say. Lord, 
Lord, have we not prophesied in Thy name, and in 
Thy name cast out devils, and done many wonder- 
ful works ? ' 

"'Then will 1 say to them, 1 never knew you! 
Depart from Me all ye that work iniquity! ' " 

And what of Angela and Florian ? Painter and 
sweetheart regard the work. Varillo's first remark 
is, " Did you do it all yourself ?" That is the first 
verbal stab. Others follow, killing the joy of 
Angela. And the verbal stabs are but the prelude 
to one with steel; for Varillo, maddened by jeal- 
ousy, determines to kill Angela and then to per- 



26o Marie Corelli 

suade the world that he has painted the picture. 
Angela, happily, is not killed. Varillo, who es- 
capes, enters into a conspiracy to declare and main- 
tain that the great picture is his. He is got out 
of the world and out of the book by perishing in a 
fire at a monastery to which he had been taken. 
Such treachery it is almost impossible to conceive. 
Yet those who condemn the incident should re- 
member some of Marie Corelli's own personal ex- 
periences, with which the world has now to some 
extent become acquainted. Angela subsequently 
marries Gys Grandit. 

Throughout the book there are a good many dis- 
courses by Aubrey Leigh and Gys Grandit on the 
subject of Christian Democracy. What seems to 
be the main desire of this party is "a purified 
Church — a House of Praise to God, without any 
superstition or Dogma." We must confess, how- 
ever, that we recognize the truth of the remark 
made by Gherardi — one of the Roman prelates — 
"You must have Dogma. You must formulate 
something out of a chaos of opinion"; and neither 
through Manuel, Aubrey Leigh, nor Gys Grandit 
does Marie Corelli tell us how she would build up 
this simple universal church of which she speaks so 
much. We may, however, expect in a further 
book to have Miss Corelli's constructive conceptions 



"The Master Christian" 261 

on the subject. The basis of it all is, at any rate, 
that the main feature of all worship should be praise 
of the Almighty and His Divine Son; and, as a true 
believer and an artist, she would have the churches 
not only essentially houses of Praise, but buildings 
worthy of the high purpose for which they are 
erected. In "The Master Christian" she gives us 
her stepfather's poem as indicating Aubrey Leigh's 
ideal on the subject: 

If fhou'rt a Christian in deed and thought, 

Loving thy neighbor as Jesus taught, — 

Living all days in the sight of Heaven, 

And not one only out of seven, — 

Sharing thy wealth vi^ith the suffering poor, 

Helping all sorrow that Hope can cure, — 

Making religion a truth in the heart. 

And not a cloak to be wore in the mart. 

Or in high cathedrals and chapels and fanes. 

Where priests are traders and count the gains, — 

All God's angels will say, " Well done ! " 

Whenever thy mortal race is run. 
White and forgiven, 
Thou'lt enter heaven, 

And pass, unchallenged, the Golden Gate, 

Where welcoming spirits watch and wait 

To hail thy coming with sweet accord 

To the Holy City of God the Lord ! 

If Peace is thy prompter, and Love is thy guide, 
And white-robed Charity walks by thy side, — 
If thou tellest the truth without oath to bind. 
Doing thy duty to all mankind, — 



262 Marie Corelli 

Raising the lowly, cheering the sad, 

Finding some goodness e'en in the bad. 

And owning with sadness if badness there be, 

There might have been badness in thine and in thee, 

If Conscience the warder that keeps thee whole 

Had uttered no voice to thy slumbering soul, — 

All God's angels will say, " Well done ! " 

Whenever thy mortal race is run. 
White and forgiven, 
Thou'lt enter heaven, 

And pass, unchallenged, the Golden Gate, 

Where welcoming spirits watch and wait 

To hail thy coming with sweet accord 

To the Holy City of God the Lord ! 

If thou art humble and wilt not scorn, 
However wretched, a brother forlorn, — 
If thy purse is open to misery's call. 
And the God thou lovest is God of all, 
Whatever their color, clime or creed, 
Blood of thy blood, in their sorest need, — 
If every cause that is good and true, 
And needs assistance to dare and do. 
Thou helpest on through good and ill. 
With trust in heaven, and God's good-will, — 

All God's angels will say, " Well done ! " 

Whenever thy mortal race is run. 
White and forgiven, 
Thou'lt enter heaven. 

And pass, unchallenged, the Golden Gate, 

Where welcoming spirits watch and wait 

To hail thy coming with sweet accord 

To the Holy City of God the Lord ! 

In the closing of the story we find Cardinal 
Bonpre threatened by the Pope with severe punish- 



"The Master Christian" 263 

ment unless he parts with Manuel, and the Car- 
dinal's dignified and argumentative reply. The 
two part, but it is not at the bidding of the Pope. 
There is a beautiful description of the last night on 
earth of the Cardinal and of a vision beheld by 
him— a Dream of Angels, "Of thousands of daz- 
zling faces, that shone like stars or were fair as 
flowers ! " 

So the Cardinal passes away to his eternal rest: 

"And when the morning sun shone through the 
windows ... its wintry beams encircled the 
peaceful form of the dead Cardinal with a pale halo 
of gold,— and when they came and found him 
there, and turned his face to the light— it was as 
the face of a glorified saint, whom God had greatly 
loved!" 



And of the "Cardinal's foundling "—what of 
Him ? Many wondered and sought to trace Him, 
but no one ever heard where he had gone. . . . 
Some say He has never disappeared, — but that in 
some form or manifestation of wisdom, He is ever 
with us, watching to see whether His work is well 
or ill done,— whether His flocks are fed, or led 
astray to be devoured by wolves — whether His 
straight and simple commands are fulfilled or dis- 
obeyed. And the days grow dark and threatening 
— and life is more and more beset with difficulty 
and disaster — and the world is moving more and 
more swiftly on to its predestined end — and the 
Churches are as stagnant pools, from whence Death 



264 Marie Corelli 

is far more often born than Life. And may we not 
ask ourselves often in these days the question, — 

"When the Son of Man cometh, think ye He 
shall find faith on earth ?" 

That is the question that Marie Corelli asks the 
world through "The Master Christian." 



CHAPTER XIV 

** TEMPORAL power" 

This, Marie Corelli's latest work, appeared on 
August 28th, 1902, the first edition totalling up to 
the unprecedented number of 120,000 copies. We 
understand that, since the primary issue, a further 
30,000 copies have been printed. Thus it comes 
about that in spite of all the newspaper invective of 
which she has been the victim and the verbal flood- 
gates that have been opened upon her, Marie Corelli 
has with her latest production broken the book- 
selling record for a six-shilling volume on its first 
appearance. 

"Temporal Power " is not an inviting name. As 
a schoolmiss would say, "It sounds dry." It has 
not the mystery-suggesting flavor of ''The House 
on the Marsh " or the thrilling and adventuresome 
qualities of a title like -Twenty Thousand Leagues 
under the Sea"; yet -Temporal Power," despite 
its appellation, is, at the time of writing, the most- 
talked-about book in the world. 

" For," to quote Marie Corelli, - it must be borne 
in mind that ' Temporal Power' are the two daz- 
265 



266 Marie Corelli 

zling words which forever fascinate the Pope, and 
are the key-notes of every attempt at supremacy. 
' Temporal Power ' is the desire of kings, as of com- 
moners. There is nothing really prosaic about such 
a title, unless the thing itself be deemed prosaic, 
which, if this were proved, would make out that 
all the work of the world was useless and that 
nothing whatever need be done except fold one's 
hands and sit down in unambitious contentment." 

"Temporal Power" was not issued to the Press 
for review, but no less than three hundred and fifty 
journals — big and little — paid Miss Corelli the com- 
pliment of purchasing the book in order to com- 
ment on its plot and characteristics. Conning the 
mass of critical matter which is the outcome of this 
action on the part of the newspapers, it would 
seem that the attitude of the Press towards the 
authoress is growing less hostile than of yore, for 
quite a number of the reviews are couched in dis- 
tinctly favorable language. 

From Lloyd's Weekly Newspaper, September 21st, 
1902, we cull the following notice, which will serve 
as a brief resume of the plot — no doubt already 
familiar to the majority of our readers — and at the 
same time as an example of how an entire stranger 
to the novelist — as the author of this article was— 
can disregard the prejudice which has arisen with 



"Temporal Power" 267 

respect to oiir subject, and write as he thinks, com- 
bining, as it appears to us, a happy knack of lucid 
expression with a calm and temperate judgment. 

A text from St. Paul as follows, *' For we wrestle 
not against flesh and blood, but against principali- 
ties, against powers, against the rulers of the dark- 
ness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in 
high places," prefaces and in a measure explains 
this very remarkable book. The hero of the story 
is a king reigning in these latter days over a Chris- 
tian country that never once throughout the book 
receives a name. The omission, however, is not 
likely to be very early noticed by the reader, so in- 
tense is the interest aroused by the narrative, so 
rapid and sustained is its action. The king, mar- 
ried to a beautiful but cold consort who has borne 
him three sons, suddenly awakes to the fact that he 
is not doing his duty to hjs people, and resolves to 
go amongst them to see things for himself. He ac- 
cordingly does so in disguise, and actually joins a 
society of Socialists. Hearing what is said about 
his Ministers he tests them and vetoes a declaration 
of war which is being brought about in the interests 
of certain capitalists and through the agency of a 
corrupt Press. Another conspiracy he contends 
with and defeats is a Jesuit one, during which an 
attempt is made upon his life, an attempt foiled by 
a beautiful woman of the people, who receives the 
knife-thrust in his place. One of the main themes 
of the book is the love of the king's eldest son 
Humphry for Gloria, a poor but beautiful girl. He 
has secretly wedded her, and the fact coming to the 
king's knowledge he upbraids his son and tells him 
that, the marriage with Gloria being of necessity 
morganatic, he must make a speedy alliance with a 
princess of a neighboring state. Then ensues a fine 



268 Marie Corelli 

scene in which the young prince firmly refuses to 
abandon Gloria, or to commit bigamy by another 
marriage. It is one of those scenes in which Miss 
Corelli is seen at her best. There is deep scorn in 
the prince's utterance when he declines the other 
marriage: " Three or four Royal sinners of this class 
I know of who for all their pains have not succeeded 
in winning the attachment of their people, either 
for themselves or their heirs." He further emphat- 
ically assures his royal father that he will, if need- 
ful, " make it a test case, and appeal to the law of 
the realm. If that law tolerates a crime in princes 
which it would punish in commoners, then I shall 
ask the People to judge me!" The whole book 
throughout is so arranged that Miss Corelli is every- 
where enabled to give utterance to the views of life 
she holds, and to attack the things she considers 
wrong. This she does in every instance with elo- 
quent vehemence, and there will be many who must 
feel that she usually has right on her side. "Of 
things temporal there shall be no duration — neither 
Sovereignty nor Supremacy, nor Power; only Love, 
which makes weak the strongest, and governs the 
proudest." The end of the book is the abdication 
and death of the king, his son and Gloria sailing to 
happier climes, rejoicing in a pure love. In its 
scope and imagination this is one of the most strik- 
ing volumes Miss Corelli has given us. 



From this exceedingly able summing-up of the 
work we will now turn to the article on " Temporal 
Power " which was published in The Review of Re- 
views. 

To begin with, it needs to be explained that Mr. 
Stead first of all wrote a private letter to Miss Co- 



"Temporal Power" 269 

relli telling 'her that it was -by far the strongest 
book she had yet written." He then went on to 
suggest that she meant her characters for certain 
living Royalties and celebrities. Miss Corelli wrote 
back to him at once, stating that he was entirely in 
error. He having made the suggestion that she had 
described Queen Alexandra as the cold and irrespon- 
sive Queen of -Temporal Power," Miss Corelli re- 
ferred him to her -Christmas Greeting," published 
at the end of the previous year, for the description 
of the Queen as seen in - The Soul of Queen Alex- 
andra." The general tone of Mr. Stead's review 
was to accuse Miss Corelli of - disloyalty " (though 
he himself. Miss Corelli complains, had long ex- 
pressed views that were' distinctly Pro-Boer), and 
to inquire sarcastically how it happened that she 
was invited to the Coronation ? It may be stated 
that she was invited to the Coronation because the 
King knows her personally, and, knowing her, is 
perfectly aware that he has no more loyal subject— 
a conviction that is not likely to be disturbed by the 
casual statement even of an experienced reviewer 
like Mr. Stead. From certain letters and messages 
Miss Marie Corelli has received from both the King 
and Queen (if she cared to make them public), it is 
very evident that she is thoroughly appreciated by 
the Royal Family, and that they are the last people 



270 Marie Corelli 

in the world to believe the numerous adverse state- 
ments circulated about her merely on account of 
her brilliant success. 

It was in the September (1902) Review of Reviews 
that Mr. Stead devoted four pages to his criticism of 
"Temporal Power," which was described as "a 
tract for the guidance of the King." 

**The fact" (continued Mr. Stead) "that her 
pages reflect as in a glass darkly, in an exaggerated 
and somewhat distorted shape, the leading person- 
ages in the English Court, and in contemporary 
politics, may be one of those extraordinary coinci- 
dences which occur without any intention on the 
part of the authoress of the book." 

The King and the Queen are then described, and 
attention is drawn to the position of the Heir Ap- 
parent after he has contracted what is known as a 
morganatic marriage. 



The King and Queen (proceeds the review) insist 
upon ignoring the marriage, and try to compel their 
son to commit bigamy by marrying a woman of the 
royal caste. The Prince, however — and in this 
Marie Corelli departs from the old legend which ap- 
pears to have suggested this episode — has an uncon- 
querable repugnance to the demand that he should 
commit bigamy for the good of the State. 

The King, at the time when the story opens, has 
as his Prime Minister an aged Marquis, who is a 
dark, heavy man of intellectual aspect, whose man- 



"Temporal Power" 271 

ner is profoundly discouraging to all who seek to 
win his sympathy, and whose ascendancy in his 
own Cabinet is overshadowed by that of a Secretary 
of State, who bears an extraordinary resemblance 
to a certain Secretary of State who shall be name- 
less. This " honorable statesman " is hand-in-glove 
with an alien journalist, who is described here and 
there in terms which fit more or less loosely to one 
or two proprietors of journals of very large circula- 
tions in London town. With the aid of this su- 
preme embodiment of the mercenary journalism of 
our latter day, the Secretary of State conceives the 
idea of working up a war for the annexation of a 
small State, whose conquest was certain to increase 
the value of various shares in which the Secretary 
and his friends had largely speculated, and further, 
to extricate them from various political difficulties 
in which they had found themselves involved. 



We have Miss Corelli's authority for stating, with 
all possible emphasis, that " Temporal Power" was 
written without the least intention on the part of 
the author to introduce living personalities under 
a romantic disguise. As touching the character of 
the defaulting Secretary of State, Carl Perousse, 
with which a large number of writers (including 
Mr. Stead) have sought to identify Mr. Joseph 
Chamberlain, it may be pointed out that if the 
author had any prominent European statesman at 
all in view, it was a well-known Italian minister, 
now deceased, as any one with judgment and 
knowledge of Italian affairs could testify — though 



2']1 Marie Corelli 

Perousse is made tall and thin in the book, with 
the express object that he shall escape association 
with the said Italian minister, who was short and 
fat. Nothing has astonished the novelist more 
than the numerous letters she has received from 
members of Mr. Chamberlain's party in which it is 
stated that the villainous Perousse is "exactly like" 
their leader. We have only to refer such corre- 
spondents to Miss Corelli's public speeches in 
Edinburgh and Glasgow to prove that she has 
always spoken in high praise of the Colonial 
Secretary. 

The King of the book is no more intended 
to be a suggested picture of Edward the Seventh 
than of Haroun Alraschid. The performances 
of the latter potentate are certainly "impossible" 
and "outrageous" — to quote press diatribes on 
"Temporal Power" — but they live, and their 
forgotten writer is not branded with lese-majesty. 
This romance of Marie Corelli's was written to 
show how a King, in spite of modern surround- 
ings, can still be a hero. Marie Corelli's king is the 
best man in the whole story, and is represented as 
winning the love of all his people. 

The authoress readily admits that an attack on 
Jesuitism is contained in the book, nor is she the 
only one who has waylaid that persuasion. She is 



"Temporal Power" 273 

strenuously opposed to the political and educational 
system of Jesuitry, and believes that the whole 
civilized world is with her. 

The much-discussed question of "royal bigamy" 
as condemned by the action of Miss Corelli's 
young Prince Humphry and his love for "Gloria," 
is a matter that has nothing to do with one Royal 
Family more than another. Our author's ideas are, 
that if any crime is a crime in commoners, it should 
not be excused in persons of Royal birth; more- 
over, she thinks that many a Royal Prince has 
been made hopelessly miserable, and the springs 
of his life poisoned at their very fount, by his 
being forced to wed where he does not love, 
merely for "Reasons of State." The Pope has 
quite recently condemned Royal alliances between 
cousins; and as all Royal Families are at the pres- 
ent day very closely allied, Miss Corelli thinks it 
will soon be necessary for heirs to thrones to enjoy 
the same honest freedom of purpose in their loves 
and marriages as the simplest gentlemen in the 
land. 

The novelist has been told that she has made 
enemies among the " extra-loyal " and "Imperial- 
istic" party. She presumes the "extra-loyal" 
means the "extra-toadies." If the "Imperialistic" 
party is a party which seeks to curtail and restrict 



274 Marie Corelli 

the rights of the People, then she goes with the 
People against all political parties whatsoever. But 
she takes no side in party politics: she is a stickler 
for Justice and Right for the great majority. 

Two apparent attempts in journals catering 
specially for the book trade, were made to quash 
the success of the novel. One of these journals 
plainly stated that ** Temporal Power" had not 
obtained the triumph claimed for it. The pub- 
lishers, Messrs. Methuen and Co., instantly taxed 
the paper in question with having misstated the 
case, with the result that the following retractation 
was published: "With reference to our statement 
last month, regarding the sales of ' Temporal 
Power,' we learn that, so far from the repeat 
orders not comparing favorably with those of 
* The Master Christian,' they have established a 
record even in the gigantic sales of Marie Corelli's 
novels. Up to the present, during the same 
period, the sales of 'Temporal Power' have ex- 
ceeded those of 'The Master Christian,' by over 
twenty thousand, and some idea of the demand 
for the book, even after the first rush, may be 
obtained from the fact that all the retail book- 
sellers, with one exception, in Brighton, sent large 
repeat orders within a few weeks of publication, 
while a single repeat order from one retail book- 



"Temporal Power" 275 

seller alone in another part of the country was for 
seven hundred and twenty-eight copies." 

The other periodical, after making one or two 
attempts to stem the great wave of *' Temporal 
Power," printed the following somewhat half- 
hearted comment: "Although few reviewers have 
spoken kindly of this novel, its sale has reached a 
figure which it is unnecessary to repeat here; 
whether its merits deserve such popularity we 
must refrain from discussing." 

In some quarters it has been boldly alleged that 
"Temporal Power" is like "The Eternal City." 
There are absolutely no points of resemblance. 
Miss Corelli has never read "The Eternal City" 
or any of Mr. Hall Caine's books except "The 
Christian." She declares, however, that she 
searched in vain for a real follower of Christ in 
that work. It is interesting to note, by the way, 
that although the two novelists met years ago at 
a social function, they are practically strangers to 
one another, and are probably content to remain 
so. 

From a book containing scores of powerful pas- 
sages which would well bear reproduction inde- 
pendently of the context, we only propose to make 
a single quotation. The following extract concerns 
one of the most touching events of the story, /. e., 



276 Marie Corelli 

the rejection of the King's offered love by '' Lotys," 
woman of the people: 

"Lotys!" he said; "Are you so cold, so frozen 
in an icewall of conventionality that you cannot 
warm to passion — not even to that passion which 
every pulse of you is ready to return ? What do 
you want of me ? Lover's oaths ? Vows of con- 
stancy ? Oh, beloved woman as you are, do you 
not understand that you have entered into my very 
heart of hearts— that you hold my whole life in your 
possession? You — not 1 — are the ruling power of 
this country! What you say, that I will do! What 
you command, that will I obey! While you live, I 
will live — when you die, I will die! Through you 
I have learned the value of sovereignty, — the good 
that can be done to a country by honest work in 
kingship, — through you I have won back my dis- 
affected subjects to loyalty; — it is all you — only 
you! And if you blamed me once as a worthless 
king, you shall never have cause to so blame me 
again! But you must help me, — you must help me 
with your love!" 

She strove to control the beating of her heart, as 
she looked upon him and listened to his pleading. 
She resolutely shut her soul to the persuasive music 
of his voice, the Hght of his eyes, the tenderness of 
his smile. 

"What of the Queen ? " she said. 

He started back, as though he had been stung. 

"The Queen!" he repeated mechanically — "The 
Queen! " 

"Ay, the Queen!" said Lotys. "She is your 
wife — the mother of your sons! She has never 
loved you, you would say, — you have never loved 
her. But you are her husband! Would you make 
me your mistress ? " 

Her voice was calm. She put the plain question 



"Temporal Power" 277 

point-blank, without a note of hesitation. His face 
paled suddenly. 

"Lotys!" he said, and stretched out his hands 
towards her; ** Lotys, I love you! " 

A change passed over her, — rapid and transfigur- 
ing as a sudden radiance from heaven. With an 
impulsive gesture, beautiful in its wild abandon- 
ment, she cast herself at his feet. 

**And I love you!" she said. "I love you with 
every breath of my body, every pulse of my heart! 
I love you with the entire passion of my life! I 
love you with all the love pent up in my poor 
starved soul since childhood until now! — I love you 
more than woman ever loved either lover or hus- 
band! 1 love you, my lord and King! — but even as 
I love you, I honor you! No selfish thought of 
mine shall ever tarnish the smallest jewel in your 
Crown! Oh, my beloved! My Royal soul of 
courage! What do you take me for.? Should I be 
worthy of your thought if I dragged you down ? 
Should I be Lotys, — if, like some light woman who 
can be bought for a few jewels, — I gave myself to 
you in that fever of desire which men mistake for 
love? Ah, no! — ten thousand times no! 1 love 
you! Look at me, — can you not see how my soul 
cries out for you ? How my lips hunger for your 
kisses — how I long, ah, God! for all the tenderness 
which I know is in your heart for me, — I, so lonely, 
weary, and robbed of all the dearest joys of life! — 
but 1 will not shame you by my love, my best and 
dearest! I will not set you one degree lower in the 
thoughts of the People, who now idolize you and 
know you as the brave, true man you are! My 
love for you would be poor indeed, if 1 could not 
sacrifice myself altogether for your sake, — you, who 
are my King!" 

He heard her, — his whole soul was shaken by the 
passion of her words. 



278 Marie Corelli 

*'Lotys!" he said,— and again—'* Lotys!" 

He drew her up from her kneeling attitude, and 
gathering her close in his arms, kissed her tenderly, 
reverently — as a man might kiss the lips of the 
dead. 

**Must it be so, Lotys ? " he whispered; "Must 
we dwell always apart ?" 

Her eyes, beautiful with a passion of the highest 
and holiest love, looked full into his. 

"Always apart, yet always together, my be- 
loved!" she answered; "Together in thought, in 
soul, in aspiration! — in the hope and confidence 
that God sees us, and knows that we seek to live 
purely in His sight! Oh, my King, you would not 
have it otherwise! You would not have our love 
defiled! How common and easy it would be for 
me to give myself to you! — as other women are 
only too ready to give themselves, — to take your 
tenderness, your care, your admiration, — to demand 
your constant attendance on my lightest humor! — 
to bring you shame by my persistent companion- 
ship! — to cause an open slander, and allow the 
finger of scorn to be pointed at you! — to see your 
honor made a mockery of, by base persons who 
would judge you as one, who, notwithstanding his 
brave espousal of the People's Cause, was yet a 
slave to the caprice of a woman! Think something 
more of me than this! Do not put me on the level 
of such women as once brought your name into 
contempt! They did not love you! — they loved 
themselves. But I — 1 love you! Oh, my dearest 
lord, if self were concerned at all in this great love 
of my heart, I would not suffer your arms to rest 
about me now! — 1 would not let your lips touch 
mine! — but it is for the last time, beloved! — the last 
time! And so 1 put my hands here on your heart 
— I kiss your lips — 1 say with all my soul in the 
prayer — God bless you! — God keep you! — God save 



"Temporal Power" 279 

you, my King! Though I shall live apart from you 
all my days, my spirit is one with yours! God will 
know that truth when we meet—on the other side 
of Death!" 

Her tears fell fast, and he bent over her, torn 
by a tempest of conflicting emotions, and kissing 
the soft hair that lay loosely ruffled against his 
breast. 

"Then it shall be so, Lotys!" he murmured at 
last. ''Your wish is my law! — it shall be as you 
command! 1 will fulfil such duties as I must in this 
world, — and the knowledge of your love for me, — 
your trust in me, shall keep me high in the People's 
honor! Old follies shall be swept away — old sins 
atoned for; — and when we meet, as you say, on the 
other side of Death, God will perchance give us all 
that we have longed for in this world— all that we 
have lost! " 

His voice shook,— he could not further rely on 
his self-control. 

"1 will not tempt you, Lotys!" he whispered — 
" I dare not tempt myself! God bless you! " 

He put her gently from him, and stood for a mo- 
ment irresolute. All the hope he had indulged in 
of a sweeter joy than any he had ever known, was 
lost, — and yet — he knew he had no right to press 
upon her a love which, to her, could only mean 
dishonor. 

** Good-bye, Lotys!" he said huskily; "My one 
love in this world and the next! Good-bye! " 

She gazed at him with her whole soul in her eyes, 
— then suddenly, and with the tenderest grace in 
the world, dropped on her knees and kissed his 
hand. 

"God save your Majesty! " she said, with a poor 
little effort at smiling through her tears; " For many 
and many a long and happy year, when Lotys is no 
more!" 



28o Marie Corclli 

This beautiful passage alone is a literary tour-de- 
force. "Temporal Power," in short, shows no 
abatement of Marie Corelli's energetic and varied 
genius, and the public will await her next work 
with all possible interest. 



CHAPTER XV 

SPEECHES AND LECTURES 

Miss Marie Corelli's career as a public speaker 
has been a short one, but, so far as it has gone, full 
of promise. She has a good enunciation and a 
sweet, penetrating voice; she takes the platform 
with the whole of her address clearly mapped out 
in her mind, her only aids to memory being a few 
notes scribbled on slips of paper, which at first 
glance look like a number of broad spills. Consult- 
ing these occasionally by way of mental refresh- 
ment, she says what she has to say with easy self- 
possession, never hesitating for lack of a suitable 
word or phrase. 

The novelist's first speech in public was made in 
connection with a bazaar at Henley-in-Arden, War- 
wickshire, in July, 1899. The announcement that 
Miss Corelli was to open the proceedings attracted 
a large number of people to this picturesque little 
town, which is situated some eight miles from 
Stratford-on-Avon, on the high road to Birming- 
ham. 
When Miss Corelli had mounted the improvised 

platform, she first thanked the organizers of the 
281 



282 Marie Corelli 

bazaar for the compliment that had been paid her 
in their invitation, and then proceeded as follows : 

" I think we all know very well what a bazaar is. 
It is peculiar and distinctive; it is a way of charm- 
ing the money out of our pockets. We wish it to 
be charmed to-day, because we always know when 
such money is obtained it is for a good purpose. 
Sometimes it is for a hospital, frequently it is for 
the restoration of a parish church. That is our ob- 
ject this afternoon. Now, there are some people 
who say that a parish church does not always re- 
quire repair, but in this special case you cannot pos- 
sibly offer that as an excuse for not spending your 
money. The parish church of Henley-in-Arden is 
in a very sad state; indeed, there are holes in the 
wooden floor through which rats and mice, quite 
uninvited, may come to prayers. Also the pave- 
ment of the central aisle is so broken up that it has 
literally risen in wrath, and become divided against 
itself. I hope this day you will come forward with 
your money and make the parish church a thing of 
beauty and a joy forever. It is a very old building. 
It is, I believe, five or six hundred years old, and all 
that time it has been a place of prayer and praise. 
I am sure you will not allow it to suffer, or fall into 
neglect and ruin at your hands. Now, I want you 
to set your hearts to the tune of generosity this 
afternoon, and I want you to spend regardless of 
expense; 1 want you to be absolutely extravagant 
and reckless. The bazaar is full of very pretty 
things, some useful, some not useful, but all orna- 
mental; and I can only recommend you to buy 
everything in the place. In the words of the Im- 
mortal Bard, whose very spirit permeates the whole 
of your beautiful county. 

Leave not a wrack behind ! 



Speeches and Lectures 283 

Set your hearts to the task, your wills to the deed, 
spend your money, and make the whole thing a 
oreat and triumphant success. Ladies and gentle- 
men, may your purses to-day be like this bazaar, 
which I have now the honor to declare open! " 

An excellent example of what an address to 
workingmen should be, was delivered by Miss 
Corelli, at Stratford-on-Avon on January 6th, 1901. 
The lecture was entitled, ''The Secret of Happi- 
ness." After some preliminary observations on the 
birth of the New Century, Miss Corelli said: 

"The twentieth century finds us all on the same 
old search, asking the same old question: How to 
be happy ? Some of the distinguished persons who 
have written in the newspapers on this subject de- 
clare we have lost the art of being happy in the old 
simple ways, and that all the brightness and mirth 
which used to make our England ' Merry England ' 
have gone forever. 1 think there is some little truth 
in these statements, and the reason is not very far 
distant. We think too much of ourselves and too 
little of our neighbors. There is nothing so de- 
pressing as a constant contemplation of one's self, 
and the greatest moral cowardice in the world's 
opinion comes from consulting one's own personal 
convenience. It is just as if a man were asked to 
look at a beautiful garden full of flowers, and, in- 
stead of accepting the invitation, sat down with 
the R6ntgen rays^to look at his own bones. His 
bones concern no one but himself, and are a dull 
entertainment at best. To be truly happy we must 
set ourselves on one side, and think of all the good 
we can do, all the love we can show to our neigh- 



284 



Marie Corelli 



bors. This is our work and our business, and, by 
performing that work thoroughly well, we shall not 
lose the secret of happiness; we shall find it. The 
harming, the slandering, the over-reaching, the 
plucking down of our neighbors is not our business, 
and if we indulge in that kind of thing we shall 
never be happy. It is to a great extent true, as some 
of the newspapers tell us, that the twentieth century 
still finds us very far from the best ideals and hopes. 
War still hangs like a cloud across the country. 
Drink is still a curse, and large sections of trade are 
being taken from us by American and foreign rivals. 
This, if it goes on, will mean much ruin and misery 
and want to many of our English artisans and work- 
men, and this brings me to another point in the 
secret of happiness, which is Work. Not what we 
call scamp work; not work which drops its tools 
at the first sound of the dinner bell and runs across 
to the public-house, but good, conscientious, thor- 
ough work, of which the workman himself may 
be justly proud. Why should Americans take work 
which Englishmen, if they like, can do infinitely 
better? Simply because they are smart, cute, up 
to time, and take less early closing and fewer bank 
holidays. I am a very hard worker myself, and 1 
am not speaking without knowing what I am talk- 
ing about, and 1 say from my own experience — and 
I have worked ever since I reached my sixteenth 
year — that work is happiness. No one can take 
my work from me and therefore no one can take 
my happiness from me. I defy any one to upset, 
worry, or put me out in the least so long as 1 have 
my work to do. Take away my work, and I am 
lost. Show me a lazy, loafing person, man or 
woman, and 1 will show you a discontented grum- 
bler, who is a misery in his or her home, and a 
misery to him or her self. Nothing is idle in God's 
universe; the smallest observation will prove that. 



Speeches and Lectures 285 

If there were early closing up there {pointing up- 
wards) there would soon be an end to us all. The 
flower works, as it pushes its way through the soil 
to bud and blossom ; the tree works as it breaks 
into beautiful foliage; the whole earth works in- 
cessantly to produce its fruits. The sun works; it 
never rests; it rises and sets with perfect regularity. 
In fact, everything we see about us in nature is in 
constant, steady, splendid, perfect work. The idle 
person is, therefore, out of tune with the plan of 
God's creation and action. A great millionaire 
whom I know said to his son: *If you can't find 
anything to do I will disinherit you, so that you 
may work as hard as I did. That will make a man 
of you.' In this beautiful world, with a thousand 
opportunities of doing good every day and all day, 
and with the light of the Christian faith spread 
about us like perpetual sunshine, no one should be 
really unhappy. To your society, which has done 
so much good already, which is doing so much 
good, and will continue to do so much good, I 
would say, if I may be permitted to offer any ad- 
vice: Cultivate among yourselves a spirit of cheer- 
fulness, light-heartedness, and content, which shall 
spread the influence of moral and mental sunshine 
all through this dear little town in which you dwell. 
Let those who don't belong to your society see that 
you can be merry and wise without needing any 
other stimulant than your own cheery natures, and 
that the Christian faith is to you a healthy and 
active working daily principle, the heart, life, and 
soul. Show all your friends — and enemies too — 
that you have the secret of happiness by holding up 
a firm faith in the goodness of God; by keeping 
the welfare of others always in sight, and loving 
your neighbor not only as yourself, but even more 
than yourself; and by carrying out whatever you 
have to do, no matter how trivial it be, so thoroughly 



286 Marie CorelH 

and so perfectly that you can feel proud of it. 
Such pride is true pride, and thoroughly justifiable, 
and the independence that comes from work thor- 
oughly well done is a noble independence. 1 would 
not change such independence as that to be a king 
and be waited on by courtiers all day long. To me 
the honest workman is a thousand times better than 
the king. The king can do no work. It is all done 
for him, — poor king! He can hardly call his soul 
his own. He is not allowed to put his own coat 
on, and do you call him an independent man ! I 
call him a slave! I would rather have a man here 
in Stratford, who could do something of his own 
accord, turn out a piece of work, perfect — carving, 
finishing, or anything of that sort— and say, ' That 
is mine! The king can't do that, but I can!' 
Money is nothing; pride, independence, and self- 
respect are everything; and money gained by bad 
work is bad money. You can't make it anything 
else. Good work always commands good money, 
and good money brings a blessing with it. We 
are told that the danger of the twentieth century is 
greed of gold. Our upper classes are all craving for 
yet still more money, and as much money is spent 
in a single night on a dinner in London as would 
keep nearly all Stratford. We are told that England 
will lose her prestige through the money-aaving 
mania of her people. More than one great empire 
has fallen from an excessive love of luxury and self- 
indulgence, but we will hope that no such mischief 
will come to our beloved England. At any rate, in 
this little corner of it — Shakespeare's greenwood — 
where the greatest of thinkers, philosophers, and 
poets was born, and to which he was content to re- 
turn, when he had made sufficient means, and die 
among his own people— here, 1 say, let us try and 
keep up high ideals of mutual help, love, and labor. 
Let us keep them up to their highest spirit. The 



Speeches and Lectures 287 

secret of happiness is to hold fast to such simple, 
old-fashioned virtues as love of home, a life of sim- 
plicity, and appreciation of all the beautiful things 
of Nature, which are so richly strewn about us in 
Warwickshire, and never to lose sight of the best 
of all things — the great lesson of the pure Christian 
faith, the lesson which teaches us how the Divine 
sacrifice of self for the sake of others was sufficient 
to redeem the world! A happy New Year and a 
century of hope and good to all of you." 

In November, 1901, Miss Corelli delivered her 
first lecture in Scotland. It was called "The Van- 
ishing Gift: an address on the Decay of the Imagi- 
nation," and was listened to with the greatest 
appreciation by a crowded audience of the members 
of the Edinburgh Philosophical Institution, and 
their friends, numbering- some four thousand 
persons. 

Scotland has ever been a more literary country 
than England. A novel that fails in England often 
sells well in Scotland. Scotch people are very loyal 
to the magazines they like, and they always display 
a keen interest in literary ventures. Thackeray 
was a great favorite up there. "I have had three 
per cent, of the whole population here," he wrote 
from Edinburgh in November, 1856, "If I could but 
get three per cent, of London! " Both Dickens and 
Thackeray received tangible tokens of regard from 
Edinburgh people, Thackeray's taking the form of 



288 Marie Corelli 

a silver statuette of "Mr. Punch," designed as an 
inkstand. 

It would seem that to-day, as then, Edinburgh is 
anxious to give substantial proof of its apprecia- 
tion, for, a few days after Miss Corelli delivered her 
lecture, whilst ill-health detained her at the Royal 
Hotel, a deputation from the Philosophical Institu- 
tion called and presented her with a massive silver 
rose-bowl. 

The Chairman of the deputation, in asking her to 
accept the gift, made a very eloquent little speech, 
in which he laid emphasis on the fact that the last 
time a similar token of appreciation had been pre- 
sented by the Philosophical Institution to any novel- 
ist had been in the case of Charles Dickens. Since 
then, no one, save Miss Corelli, had received the 
unanimous vote of the Committee as meriting such 
a tribute. The rose-bowl bears the following in- 
scription : — 

''Presented to Miss Marie Corelli by the Edin- 
burgh Philosophical Institution, in grateful recog- 
nition of the Brilliant Address delivered by her 
on ipth November, igoi." 

It is worthy of note that the leading journal 
of Edinburgh, The Scotsman, made no allusion 



Speeches and Lectures 289 

whatever to this presentation. The omission 
caused considerable annoyance to the Committee of 
the Philosophical Institution, and the Secretary 
made inquiry as to why their special compliment to 
Miss Marie Corelli had been passed over. The 
reply was that they ** did not think it was necessary 
to mention it " ; a particularly lame and inadequate 
answer, seeing that if such a handsome presentation 
on the part of a great Institution had been made to 
any well-known male author, the probabilities are 
that considerable importance would have been at- 
tached to the incident. As it was, The Scotsman 
was judged to have committed itself to a singular 
error of prejudice in the omission, as also by stating 
that Miss Corelli's crowded audience at the Queen's 
Hall were ** mostly women," a perfectly erroneous 
statement, as by far the larger half of the assembly 
was composed of the sterner sex. 

Miss Corelli, in the course of the lecture referred 
to, attributed the gradual dwindling of Imagina- 
tion to the feverish unrest and agitation of the age 
in which we live. The hurry-skurry of modern 
life, the morbid craving for incessant excitement, 
breed a disinclination to think. Where there is no 
time to think, there is less time to imagine; and 
when there is neither thought nor imagination, 
creative work of a high and lasting quality is not 



igo Marie Corelli 

possible. In the world's earlier days, conceptions of 
art were of the loftiest and purest order. 

"The thoughts of the 'old world' period are 
written in well-nigh indelible characters. The 
colossal architecture of the temples of ancient 
Egypt, and that marvelous imaginative creation, the 
Sphinx, with its immutable face of mingled scorn 
and pity; the beautiful classic forms of old Greece 
and Rome, — these are all visible evidences of 
spiritual aspiration and endeavor; moreover, they 
are the expression of a broad, reposeful strength — a 
dignified consciousness of power. The glorious 
poetry of the Hebrew Scriptures, the swing and 
rush of Homer's Mliad,' the stately simplicity and 
profundity of Plato — these also belong to what we 
Know of the youth of the world. And they are 
still a part of the world's most precious possessions. 
We, in our day, can do nothing so great. We 
have neither the imagination to conceive such 
work, nor the calm force necessary to execute it. 
The artists of a former time labored with sustained 
and passionate, yet tranquil, energy; we can only 
produce imitations of the greater models with a 
vast amount of spasmodic hurry and clamor. So, 
perchance, we shall leave to future generations little 
more than an echo of 'much ado about 'nothing.' 
For truly we live at present under a veritable 
scourge of mere noise. No king, no statesman, no 
general, no thinker, no writer is allowed to follow 
the course of his duty or work without the shriek- 
ing comment of all sorts and conditions of un- 
instructed and misguided persons. . . ." 

Imagination is an artist's first necessary. The 
poet, the painter, the sculptor, or the m.usician 



Speeches and Lectures 291 

must be able to make a world of his own, and live 
in it, before he can make one for others. When he 
has evolved such a world out of his individual con- 
sciousness, and has peopled it with the creations of 
his fancy, he can turn its "airy substance" into 
reality for all time. 

"Shakespeare's world is real; so real that there 
are not wanting certain literary impostors who 
grudge him its reality, and strive to dispossess him 
of his own. Walter Scott's world is real; so real 
that you have built him a shrine here in Edinburgh, 
crowded with sculptured figures of men and 
women, most of whom never existed save in his 
teeming fancy. What a tribute to the power of 
Imagination is that beautiful monument in the 
centre of Princes Street, with all the forms evoked 
from one great mind, lifted high above us, who 
consider ourselves 'real' people! " 

The lecturer proceeded to deplore acts of van- 
dalism such as that which caused "the pitiful ruin 
of Loch Katrine '' in supplying Glasgow with water. 
Further on she lamented the gradual disappearance 
of "that idealistic and romantic spirit" which has 
helped to make Scotland's history such a brilliant 
chronicle of heroism and honor. 

In her powerful peroration the novelist graphic- 
ally told of modern wonders which were imagined 
when the world was young. 

" What, after all, is Imagination ? It is a great 



292 Marie Corelli 

many things. It is a sense of beauty and harmony ; 
it is an instinct of poetry and prophecy. A Persian 
poet describes it as an immortal sense of memory 
which is always striving to recall the beautiful 
things the soul has lost. Another fancy, also from 
the East, is that it is * an instructive premonition of 
beautiful things to come.' Another, which is per- 
haps the most accurate description of all, is that it 
is *the sundial of the soul, on which God flashes 
the true time of day.' This is true, if we bear in 
mind that Imagination is always ahead of science, 
pointing out in advance the great discovery to come. 
Shakespeare foretold the whole science of geology 
in three words — 'sermons in stones'; and the 
whole business of the electric telegram in one line 
— ' I'll put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.' 
One of the Hebrew prophets ' imagined ' the pho- 
nograph when he wrote, ' Declare unto me the image 
of a voice.' As we all know, the marks on the wax 
cylinder in a phonograph are * the image of a voice.' 
The airship may prove a very marvelous invention, 
but the imagination which saw Aladdin's palace 
flying from one country to another was long before 
/ it. All the genii in the ' Arabian Nights ' stories 
1/ were only the symbols of the elements which man 
might control if he but rubbed the lamp of his in- 
telligence smartly enough. Every fairy-tale has a 
meaning; every legend a lesson. The submarine 
boat in perfection has been * imagined ' by Jules 
Verne. Wireless telegraphy appears to have been 
known in the very remote days of Egypt, for in a 
very old book called * The History of the Pyramids,' 
translated from the Arabic, and published in France 
in 1672, we find an account of a certain high priest 
of Memphis, named Saurid, who, so says the an- 
cient Arabian chronicler, • prepared for himself a 
casket, wherein he put magic fire, and, shutting 
himself up with the casket, he sent messages with 



Speeches and Lectures 293 

the fire day and night, over land and sea to all those 
priests over whom he had command, so that all the 
people should be made subject to his will. And he 
received answers to his messages without stop or 
stay, and none could hold or see the running fire, so 
that all the land was in fear by reason of the knowl- 
edge of Saurid.' In the same volume we find that 
a priestess, named Borsa, evidently used the tele- 
phone; for, according to her history, * she applied 
her mouth and ears unto pipes in the wall of her 
dwelling, and so heard and answered the requests 
of the people in the distant city.' 

" Thus it would seem that there is nothing new 
under the sun to that * dainty Ariel ' of the mind- 
Imagination." 



Early in 1902 Miss Corelli again gave an address 
in Scotland— this time at Glasgow, where one of 
the largest audiences ever known in that city 
assembled to hear her lecture on "Signs of the 
Times." Every seat was occupied, and up to the 
last moment numbers were clamoring for only 
standing room. All reserved seats had been booked 
for nearly three weeks beforehand, and the extra- 
ordinary number of applications received proved 
that double the accommodation available could 
have been taken up. 

The Address was undeniably daring and spirited, 
touching on various social aspects of the hour. The 
apathy of Parliament on certain pressing matters 
of home interest, the new rules of Procedure in the 



294 Marie Corelli 

House, the inrush of undesirable aliens, the traitor- 
ous attitude of the pro-Boers, the crowding out of 
British industries by an excess of foreign competi- 
tion, the German slanders upon our army, the 
change in the British uniform to the German model, 
and the flattering attentions of Germany towards 
America, were all touched upon by the novelist with 
a force and satire that were entirely new and un- 
expected. One of her best points was made in 
alluding to the words uttered by the Prince of 
Wales, on his return from his Colonial tour, in the 
course of his famous speech at the Mansion House, 
/. e., "The old country must wake up if she in- 
tends to maintain her old position of preeminence 
in her Colonial trade against foreign competition." 
She continued: 



" I believe it is the first time in all the annals of 
English History that any Prince of Wales has deemed 
it necessary to tell the old country, which gave him 
his birth and heir-apparency, to ' wake up '! It has 
been called a * statesmanlike utterance ' in many 
quarters of our own always courteous Press, but by 
our Continental neighbors it has been simply taken 
as a royal and official statement of British incompe- 
tency. It has even been said that no Prince of 
Wales should ever have admitted any possible likeli- 
hood of weakness in his own country. We must 
remember, however, that the warning of his Royal 
Highness was directed against foreign competition, 
and may have been intended to prepare British trade 



Speeches and Lectures 295 

for the impending commercial designs of Germany 
upon South Africa. ... If the British Lion is 
indeed sleeping, it is time to wake, but to some ot 
us the Great Creature seems never to have slept, but 
to have been caught unsuspectingly in a trap of re- 
strictive legislation and vested interests, and so 
bound hand and foot unawares. The Lion is a 
generous animal, but in certain old fables he is rep- 
resented as being no match for the Fox. If, as the 
Prince of Wales says, the old country is to maintain 
her position of pre-eminence against foreign compe- 
tition, she has some right to demand that she be not 
swamped and throttled by it under the very shelter 
of her own sea wall." 

Referring to what she satirically termed the 
evidence of our *' love" for Germany, she pointed 
out that though Germans were guilty of one of 
the grossest insults ever recorded in history against 
our brave army, we, nevertheless, had clothed that 
army in the German uniform, and had made free 
and independent Tommy Atkins turn himself into 
a copy of his Teuton conscript brother. Not only 
that, we have accepted a German design for the 
new postage stamps. She also alluded to the 
rumor that the Coronation medal was to be struck 
from a German design. 

Miss Corelli concluded with the following 
words: — 

"The greatest, strongest, most splendid and 



296 Marie Corelli 

hopeful ' sign of the times ' is the advancing and re- 
sistless tide of Truth, which is approaching steadily 
— which cannot be kept back, and which in the first 
breaking of its great wave shall engulf a whole 
shore of weedy shams. A desire for Truth is in the 
hearts of the people: Truth in religion, Truth in 
Life, Truth in work. We are all aiming for it, 
pushing towards it, and breaking down obstacles 
on the way. And, because God is on the side of 
Truth, we shall obtain it; more speedily, perhaps, 
than we think — especially if we are not too weakly 
ready to be led away by the first Anti-Christ of 
religious, political, or social example. 

«« • Truth, like the sun in the morning skies, 

Shall clear the clouds from the days to be ; 
" Each for himself" is a Gospel of Lies, 

That never was issued by God's decree.' " 

Such are a few examples of Miss Corelli's utter- 
ances in public. It is hardly necessary to add that 
these speeches were liberally punctuated with ap- 
plause by those who had the privilege of listening 
to them. 

If those who condemn the novelist so readily 
will only take the trouble to study what she 
has said, they cannot, if they wish to be regarded 
as honest men, deny her possession of many of 
the qualities that make for greatness. There are 
people who fear and dislike this lady because the 
attitude she takes up, on many questions, is 
significant of Battle. She hits very hard; her 



Speeches and Lectures 297 

enemies wince beneath her blows, and revile her 
in wholesale terms because they cannot overcome 
her in fair combat. But newspaper sneers will do 
little to affect the judgment of the Public, which 
is, after all, the critic whose opinion is abiding and 
fmal. 



CHAPTER XVI 

MARIE CORELLl'S VIEWS ON MARRIAGE 

Marie Corelli seems to think that the present 
generation is one in which hypocrisy cumbers the 
face of the globe. "Never,' she says, ** was the 
earth so oppressed with the weight of polite lying, 
never were there such crowds of evil masque- 
raders, cultured tricksters, and social humbugs, 
who, though admirable as tricksters and humbugs, 
are wholly contemptible as men and women. 
Truth is at a discount, and if one should utter it 
the reproachful faces of one's so-called * friends ' 
show how shocked they are at meeting with any- 
thing honest." That is a very sweeping assertion 
for which Marie Corelli has been abused. If the 
world had in it more sincerity than sham, the 
truth of her condemnation of present systems and 
practices would have been frankly admitted. Be- 
cause what she says is true to an unhappy degree. 
The authoress is severe in her criticisms of the 
marriage "bargains" which are, we think, mainly 
the possession of what she would call "smart" 
298 



Marie Corelli's Views on Marriage 299 

society. The Divorce Court record is certainly a 
proof that a good many of the weddings that are 
** arranged" are certainly not made in Heaven. 
Marie Corelli thinks, indeed, that many women 
have forgotten what marriage is, and she declares 
it to be an absolute grim fact that in England many 
women of the upper classes are not to-day married, 
but merely bought for a price. 

" Marriage is not the church, the ritual, the 
blessing of clergymen, or the ratifying and approv- 
ing presence of one's friends and relations at the 
ceremony; still less is it a matter of settlements and 
expensive millinery. It is the taking of a solemn 
vow before the throne of the Eternal — a vow which 
declares that the man and woman concerned have 
discovered in each other his or her true mate; that 
they feel life is alone valuable and worth living in 
each other's company; that they are prepared to 
endure trouble, poverty, pain, sickness, death itself, 
provided that they may only be together; and that 
all the world is a mere grain of dust in worth as 
compared to the exalted passion which fills their 
souls and moves them to become one in flesh as 
well as in spirit. Nothing can make marriage an 
absolutely sacred thing except the great love, com- 
bined with the pure and faithful intention of the 
vow involved." 

Amongst all classes a very large number of 
marriages mean all that. Amongst the poorer 
classes — not the lowest classes — the proportion is 
probably the largest, and amongst the middle 



300 Marie Corelli 

and higher classes it is so to a large though 
diminishing degree. Nevertheless, Marie Corelli 
states, and we agree, that it is the cash-box that 
governs the actions of far too many in entering 
upon the most serious duty of life; and if the man 
and wife do not realize the importance and sacred- 
ness of the tie, the result must be, as the novelist 
says, that the man and wife will drag down rather 
than uplift each other. 

In a magazine article which Marie Corelli wrote 
some time ago, she drew a delightful picture of an 
artist and his wife in Capri who live on ;£ioo a 
year in perfect bliss. When one views the picture 
she draws of their life it is easy to think one has 
found something like the lost paradise. Still, if we 
all tried love on ^loo a year in Capri the housing 
problem would soon become as serious a matter 
there as it is to-day in our great cities. Love on 
;^ioo a year, or less or more, must be tried by most 
of us under less favorable geographical circum- 
stances; but under whatever circumstances true it 
is, as Miss Corelli insists, that God's law of love 
will make of marriage a successful and happy 
undertaking. 

Marriage on very moderate means is not attract- 
ive. And why ? According to Marie Corelli, be- 
cause Love is not sufficient for the average girl; 



Marie Corelli's Views on Marriage 301 

because in the rush of our time we are trampling 
sweet emotions and true passion under foot, mar- 
riages being too seldom the result of affection now- 
adays. They are too often merely the carrying 
out of a settled scheme of business. Mothers teach 
their daughters to marry for a " suitable establish- 
ment " ; fathers, rendered desperate as to what they 
are to do with their sons in the increasing struggle 
for life and the incessant demand for luxuries 
which are not by any means actually necessary to 
that life, say: "Look out for a woman with 
money." The heir to a great name and title sells 
his birthright for a mess of American dollar-pottage; 
— and it is a very common, every-day business to 
see some Christian virgin sacrificed on the altar of 
matrimony to a money-lending, money-grubbing 
son of Israel. Bargain and sale, — sale and bargain, 
— it is the whole raison d'etre oi the "season," — 
the balls, the dinners, the suppers, the parties to 
Hurlingham and Ascot,— even on the dear old 
Thames, with its delicious nooks fitted for pure 
romance and heart betrothal, the clatter of Gunter's 
luncheon-dishes and the popping of Benoist's 
champagne-corks remind the hungry gypsies who 
linger near such scenes of river revelry that there is 
not much sentiment about,— only plenty of money 
being wasted. Marie Corelli well says that there 



302 Marie Corelli 

can be nothing more hideous — more like a foretaste 
of hell itself— than the life position of a man and 
woman who have been hustled into matrimony, 
and who, when the wedding fuss is over and the 
feminine pictorial papers have done gushing about 
the millinery of the occasion, find themselves alone 
together, without a single sympathy in common, 
with nothing but the chink of gold and the rustle 
of the bank-notes for their heart music, and with a 
barrier of steadily increasing repulsion and disgust 
rising between them every day. 

We have seen something of such a picture in 
Marie Corelli's character of ** Sybil Elton"; that it is 
no more nor less than a crime to enter upon mar- 
riage without that mutual supreme attraction and 
deep love which makes the union sacred, may be, 
in fact, allowed. The question is, how to avoid 
such evils ? Marie Corelli gives the answer in this 
advice: "In a woman's life one love should suffice. 
She cannot, constituted as she is, honestly give her- 
self to more than one man. And she should be 
certain — absolutely, sacredly, solemnly certain, that 
one man is indeed her preelected lover, her chosen 
mate; that never could she care for any other hand 
than his to caress her beauty, never for any other 
kiss than his to rest upon her lips, and that without 
him life is but a half-circle waiting completion. 



Marie Gorelli's Views on Marriage 303 

. . . Love is the last of all the mythical gods to 
be tempted or cajolled by lawyers and settlements, 
wedding-cake, and perishable millinery. His do- 
main is nature and the heart of humanity, — and the 
gifts he can bestow on those who meet him in the 
true spirit are marvelous and priceless indeed. The 
exquisite joys he can teach, — the fine sympathies, 
— the delicate emotions, — the singular method in 
which he will play upon two lives like separate 
harps, and bring them into resounding tune and 
harmony, so that all the world shall seem full of 
luscious song, — this is one way of Love's system of 
education. But this is not all— he can so mould the 
character, temper the will, and strengthen the heart, 
as to make his elected disciples endure the bitterest 
sorrows bravely, — perform acts of heroic self-sacri- 
fice and attain the most glorious heights of ambi- 
tion, — for, as the venerable Thomas a Kempis tells 
us, — * Love is a great thing, yes, a great and thor- 
ough good; by itself it makes everything that is 
heavy, light — and it bears evenly all that is uneven. 
For it carries a burden which is no burden, and 
makes everything that is bitter sweet and tasteful. 
Though weary it is not tired, — though pressed it is 
not straightened, — though alarmed it is not con- 
founded, but as a lively flame and burning torch it 
forces its way upward and securely passes through 



304 Marie Corel li 

all. Is not such divine happiness well worth at- 
taining?' " 

The answer to that rests with the women mainly, 
and to them Marie Corelli says: 

"1 want you to refuse to make your bodies and 
souls the traffickable material of vulgar huckstering, 
— 1 want you to give yourselves, ungrudgingly, 
fearlessly, without a price or any condition whatso- 
ever, to the men you truly love, and abide by the 
results. If love is love indeed, no regret can be 
possible. But be sure it is love, — the real passion, 
that elevates you above all sordid and mean consid- 
erations of self, — that exalts you to noble thoughts 
and nobler deeds, — that keeps you faithful to the 
one vow, and moves you to take a glorious pride in 
preserving that vow's immaculate purity, — be sure 
it is all this, — for if it is not all this you are making 
a mistake and you are ignorant of the very begin- 
nings of love. Try to fathom your own hearts 
on this vital question — try to feel,to comprehend, to 
learn the responsibilities invested in womanhood, 
and never stand before God's altar to accept a bless- 
ing on your marriage if you know in your inmost 
soul that it is no marriage at all in the true sense of 
the word, but merely a question of convenience 
and sale. To do such a deed is the vilest blas- 
phemy, — a blasphemy in which you involve the 
very priest who pronounces the futile benediction. 
The saying * God will not be mocked ' is a true 
one; and least of all will He consent to listen to or 
ratify such a mockery as a marriage-vow sworn be- 
fore Him in utter falsification and misprisal of His 
chiefest commandment, — Love. It is a wicked and 
wilful breaking of the law, — and is never by any 
chance suffered to remain unpunished." 



Marie Corelli's Views on Marriage 305 

Marie Corelli is a great friend of children, loving 
them and beloved of them. It may be regarded as 
probable that the children of those who form the 
ideal unions which the novelist so eloquently de- 
scribes will be sure to train their own offspring on 
good and intelligent lines. But there are others— 
so many of them. There is much in the writings 
of Marie Corelli that bears upon the question, and 
her text is the dedication of the "Mighty Atom" 
—•'To those self-styled * Progressivists ' who 
by precept and example assist the infamous cause 
of education without religion, and who, by pro- 
moting the idea, borrowed from French atheism, 
of denying to the children in Board schools and 
elsewhere, the knowledge and love of God, as the 
true foundation of noble living, are guilty of a 
worse crime than murder." That is her view. She 
regards the teaching of simple Christian truths— the 
love of God, and the instruction which is the basis 
of all Christian creeds, /. e.y to do unto others 
as you would be done by — as an essential element 
in the education of children. She would regard 
it as the most heinous of crimes to take from our 
English elementary schools that religious instruction 
which was agreed to in the 1870 Compromise, the 
Compromise which happily has survived a violent 
attack made upon it not long since in the elemen- 



3o6 Marie Core Hi 

tary educational Parliament of London, the Metro- 
politan School Board. 

Whatever be the general scheme of elementary, 
secondary, higher, and technical education and 
training, Marie Corelli would have the people in- 
sist, as for life itself, upon the children being taught 
'* the knowledge and love of God." 

She would have that knowledge imparted in the 
spirit of which Queen Victoria wrote: *M am 
quite clear," said the Queen, speaking of her eldest 
daughter, then a child, ''that she should be taught 
to have great reverence for God and for religion, 
and that she should have the feeling of devotion 
and love which our Heavenly Father encourages 
His earthly children to have for Him, and not one 
of fear and trembling. " In " The Master Christian " 
we see incidentally brought out the evil results 
of the unhappy law of France which excludes 
religious education from the schools, the conse- 
quence of which is the enormous increase of ag- 
nostic thought in that country, and, built upon it, 
the views and practices which are eating into the 
heart of that great nation like a foul disease, weak- 
ening its numerical strength and its moral and intel- 
lectual force. For the guidance of parents in this 
matter we would commend them to those two 
most interesting books, "The Mighty Atom" and 



Marie Corelli's Views on Marriage 307 

"Boy." They are volumes which all parents 
should read and study. They have already given 
pause to many callous men and women who were 
neglecting to bestow that thought on the children's 
training which the subject demands. There are 
many Christian parents who for want of thought 
neglect this matter and sometimes have only them- 
selves to thank for dissolute sons and impure 
daughters. On the other hand, to their credit it is 
the fact that many who are not Christians, who are 
careless and neglectful of religion, or are even ag- 
nostics, insist upon their children receiving that 
religious education which they themselves once 
received, with the just and broad-minded idea that, 
though they have become careless, cynical, or 
entirely agnostic, the children shall start as they did 
with the same training and have the same oppor- 
tunity of forming their own judgment on these 
matters. 

Parents will think deeply over *'The Mighty 
Atom" and ''Boy." Different as the two stories 
are, they deal essentially with this great question. 
They both teach serious lessons to the fathers and 
the mothers of English boyhood. The stories, as 
such, have been already dealt with. Here we will 
just give a few of those lessons which it is the 
object of the works in question to teach. 



3o8 Marie Corelli 

The author would have children's bodies educated 
as well as their minds. She regards the former as 
the more important for the reason that a healthy 
body is the most suitable habitation for a healthy 
mind, and that a keen intellect developed by ruining 
the physical strength is not calculated to benefit 
either the individual, or the community to which 
the individual belongs. Lionel Valliscourt, the little 
hero of " The Mighty Atom," has a father and also 
a tutor, one Montrose. The father is an atheist and 
anxious to educate the son on a system, part of 
which is the exclusion of religion from the curric- 
ulum. Montrose, a level-headed, clear-brained 
Scotchman, — no " preacher," but possessing a 
simple belief in God — is dismissed from his position 
because he does not approve the father's system. 
This he describes as child-murder; and in the re- 
marks he addresses to the father at their last inter- 
view Marie Corelli's opinions about child-training 
are indicated: 

"1 will have no part in child-murder" (says 
Montrose), . . . "Child-murder! Take the 
phrase and think it over! You have only one child, 
— a boy of a most lovable and intelligent disposi- 
tion,— quick-brained, too quick-brained by half!— 
You are killing him with your hard and fast rules, 
and your pernicious ' system ' of intellectual train- 
ing. You deprive him of such pastimes as are nec- 
essary to his health and growth, — you surround him 



Marie Corelli's Views on Marriage 309 

with petty tyrannies which make his young life a 
martyrdom, — you give him no companions of his 
own age, and you are, as I say, murdering him, — 
slowly perhaps, but none the less surely." 

Marie Corelli is absolutely opposed to "cram." 
That was what was killing little Lionel. At ten he 
was well advanced in mathematics, Latin and 
Greek, history, and even science. No wonder he 
was often "tired," or that he felt as if, to use his 
own words, it wouldn't be a bad thing to belong to 
the hybernating species and go to sleep all the 
winter. Miss Corelli detests cram — the regarding 
of the young human brain as a sort of expanding 
bag or hold-all, to be filled with various bulky ar- 
ticles of knowledge, useful or otherwise, till it 
shows signs of bursting. That was the plan of 
little Lionel's new coach, who, after the operation 
of cramming a youngster's brain, would then lock 
up the brain-bag and trust to its carrying the owner 
through life. If the lock broke and the whole bag 
gave way, so much the worse for the bag, that was 
all. That was what happened with poor little 
Lionel, who hanged himself, tired of the "cram," 
and worried into insanity by the loss of his mother, 
the death of his playmate, and the trouble of con- 
sidering whether, if there be no God, and death is 
mere negation, it was really worth while living at all. 



310 Marie Corelli 

Healthy physical exercise, reasonable study, and 
religion as the basis of that study: so Miss Corelli 
would train the children. 

"Boy" teaches equally healthy lessons, though 
the story and the circumstances are totally different. 
" Boy " might have been a fine fellow. He had 
good qualities. That he became a thief and a 
forger was the fault of the home circumstances and 
example. The father of "Boy" was a drunkard 
and a blackguard, though a man of good family. 
The lad's mother was a silly-minded slattern. 
There was too much discipline brought to bear 
upon Lionel Valliscourt; far too little was ever 
tried on " Boy." The latter, in his early childhood 
left to himself, or to mix only with street lads, and 
with parents who, for a foolish "pride," refused 
him better training at the hands of others, developed 
by neglect into a young ruffian, though he turned 
out well in the end. 

Again, in conclusion, we commend these books 
to parents, and, indeed, to all interested in or en- 
gaged in the education and upbringing of children. 



CHAPTER XVII 

SOME PERSONAL ITEMS 

It is pretty generally known that when Sir Theo- 
dore Martin desired, in honor of Lady Martin's 
memory, to place a Helen Faucit memorial in the 
chancel of Trinity Church, Stratford-on-Avon, it 
was Miss Marie Corelli who undertook a successful 
campaign against the project. Sir Theodore Martin 
most ardently wished to execute his intention, and 
he had progressed so far with the negotiations that 
his desires were on the point of being carried out; 
and they would have been but for the active inter- 
vention of Miss Corelli, who roused the whole town 
of Stratford into energetic protest against the pro- 
posed invasion of Shakespeare's own particular 
shrine. It was Sir Theodore's idea to place a bas- 
relief of Helen Faucit immediately opposite the his- 
torical bust of the Poet, on the other side of the 
chancel, but in an equally if not more prominent 
position. 

Miss Corelli began her campaign with a letter to 
the Morning Post calling public attention to Sir 
Theodore's plan, and the whole Press backed up 
3" 



312 Marie Corelli 

her efforts with hearty unanimity. The late Sir 
Arthur Hodgson had taken the chief responsibility 
of supporting Sir Theodore Martin, but in his haste 
and zeal had forgotten to ascertain whether he could 
legally remove from the wall of the chancel two 
mural tablets which occupied the intended site of 
the proposed Helen Faucit effigy. The then Bishop 
of Worcester, Dr. Perowne, a great personal friend 
of Sir Arthur's, was persuaded to grant a "fac- 
ulty " for their removal, without due inquiry. Miss 
Corelli, however, discovered the descendants of the 
very family those mural tablets belonged to, and 
found that their permission had not been sought, 
or their existence considered. Whereupon the law 
promptly stepped in, and Sir Theodore Martin was 
compelled to withdraw. Otherwise the modern 
stone-mason would have gone to work in the hal- 
lowed precincts of Shakespeare's grave, and a piece 
of wholly unecclesiastical sculpture would have 
overlooked the Poet's place of family sepulture, a 
place which Shakespeare himself purchased for his 
own interment, and which all the world of litera- 
ture rightly considers should be left to his remains, 
uninvaded. 

The bas-relief of Lady Martin, had it been put 
up, would have shown her figure turned with its 
back to the altar, the medallion of Shakespeare 



Some Personal Items 313 

lying at her feet! The whole thing was out of 
place, and out of tune with the national sentiment, 
as though Helen Faucit was an eminent actress in 
her day, she had no connection with Stratford-on- 
Avon; moreover, she was not British-born. Miss 
Corelli's fight was a hard one, for though Mr. Sid- 
ney Lee, who was entirely on her side, wrote to 
Sir Theodore Martin himself to expostulate with 
him on the mistaken idea he had taken up, nothing 
would have had any effect had not Miss Corelli for- 
tunately discovered the descendants of the family 
whose mural tablets were about to be displaced 
without their permission. When she at last won 
the day, the whole Press broke out unanimously in 
a chorus of praise and congratulation, which must 
have been a singular experience for her, so long 
inured to disparagement. She was bombarded by 
telegrams from almost every quarter of the globe, 
particularly from America, expressing the thanks of 
all lovers of Shakespeare. 

It is a pity some one like Marie Corelli was not 
in Stratford-on-Avon at the time Shakespeare's own 
house, "New Place," was demolished. Had there 
been such an one, the chances are that the house 
would be still standing as one of the world's price- 
less treasures. Many precious shrines are defaced, 
and many valuable mementoes lost for lack of some 



314 Marie Corelli 

one to speak out who is not afraid to give an opin- 
ion. Shakespeare's townspeople are grateful to the 
novelist who fought their Poet's cause single- 
handed, and won it in the face of powerful oppo- 
sition. 

« 4e « 4( « « 

Concerning the portraits of Miss Corelli, her ex- 
periences have not been particularly pleasing. It 
will be remembered that a large oil painting of the 
novelist was exhibited at Messrs. Graves' Art Gal- 
lery, Pall Mall. This portrait was painted for two 
reasons: first, because Miss Corelli knew at the 
time of its execution that she was the victim of a 
serious malady which might, it was then feared, 
shortly end her life; and secondly, because she 
wished to leave some resemblance of herself to her 
dearest friend, Miss Vyver. 

Miss Donald-Smith painted the picture and also 
executed two "pastel" portraits. Miss CoreUi 
gave several sittings to the artist at a time when 
her illness was causing her the acutest agony, and 
when the hours thus spent in the studio were to 
her a perfect martyrdom. At Miss Donald-Smith's 
request she permitted her to send the large picture 
to the Academy, where it was rejected. It was 
then exhibited by Messrs. Graves, and was at once 
made the subject of personal and abusive attacks. 



Some Personal Items 315 

not on the artist, but on Marie Corelli herself for 
being painted at all! Some journalists went so far 
as to accuse her of " taking the gate-money " and 
"speculating in her own portrait." As a matter of 
fact, Miss Corelli received none of the percentage 
allowed on the photogravures of the picture, and it 
may be added that she withdrew the picture alto- 
gether from public view before it had been long on 
exhibition. 

Another portrait was painted by Mr. Ellis Roberts 
for himself. He asked Marie Corelli to sit for him, 
having always been one of her greatest admirers. 
He did not, of course, know that she consented to 
sit for the same primary reason as for the other — 
namely, that she did not then expect to live more 
than a few months — and that she wished to be- 
queathe some "presentment" of herself to those 
who might care for it. Mr. Roberts is probably 
not aware to this day that she was often almost 
fainting when she left his studio after a prolonged 
"sitting." He has never seen her since she recov- 
ered her health and good spirits: if he had, it is prob- 
able he would wish to make another sketch of her. 

We may add that Miss Corelli still declines to 
allow a portrait of herself to be published — a deci- 
sion which we regret. For many are the "sur- 
prises " that have been given to those expectant of 



3l6 Marie Corelli 

meeting in the novelist a severe literary woman 
with spectacles and a bilious complexion. It may 
be truly said that Marie Corelli is very light-hearted, 
always high-spirited, and full of fun; people who 
represent her as morbid, brooding on her own 
"sorrows," or grumbling at the world in general, 
have never seen her, and can form no idea of her 
disposition. 

She is really a most charming lady, a most hospi- 
table hostess, a delightful raconteur, a brilliant 
musician, a woman of broad views and large sym- 
pathies, a true and staunch friend, always glad to 
do a kindly action. 

After the record-breaking success of " The Master 
Christian " and the world-wide discussions follow- 
ing the publication of that famous book, the editor 
of a magazine addressed the following communica- 
tion to Miss Marie Corelli : 

"Dear Madam,— 

** I venture to ask whether you would kindly 
undertake for us a review of Mr. Hall Caine's new 
book, * The Eternal City ' ? 

"Your own novel on a somewhat similar theme 
leads us to believe that a criticism of Mr. Caine's 
book from your pen would be of great interest and 



Some Personal Items 317 

of singulaf literary value. 1 suggest that it might 
run to three or four thousand words, for which we 
would be ready to pay an honorarium of fifty 
guineas." 

Vastly entertained by this proposition, and seeing 
very clearly through the evident "hole in a mill- 
stone," the novelist replied promptly: 

"Dear Sir, — 

" I cannot but admire the astute and business- 
like character of your request; but I do not write 
'reviews.' Nothing would ever persuade me to 
criticise the work of my contemporaries. More- 
over, my book, ' The Master Christian,' is not at all 
on the same theme as ' The Eternal City.' Mr. Hall 
Caine treats of Rome, — I, of the Christ. The two 
are direct opposites. 

" 'The Eternal City' is recognizably inspired by 
and founded on Zola's 'Rome,' in which great work 
the ' religious message ' of Mr. Caine's novel is fully 
set forth. The idea of a democratic Rome under a 
democratic Pope is Zola's * own original ' and be- 
longs to Zola alone. Wherefore, let me suggest 
that you should ask M. Zola to review the work of 
his English confrere ! " 

* * * :4c * * 

When Sir Henry Drummond Wolff made Miss 



3i8 Marie Corelli 

Corelli's acquaintance he was rather struck by the 
somewhat lonely and incessantly hard-working life 
of the young novelist at the time of ** Ardath's " 
publication. Her beloved stepfather was dying by 
inches — failing gradually every day, and her hours 
were consumed by anxiety, work, and watching. 
He asked her if he could introduce her to any one 
in London she would like to know. After a few 
moments' reflection, of all people in the world she 
chose Henry Labouchere! "I don't want anything 
from him," she said; "I'm not after a notice in 
Truth. I want to know him, because I'm sure he 
is unlike anybody else." 

The introduction was given, and the result of it 
was that she became very intimate with the editor 
of Truth, with Mrs. Labouchere, and with Miss 
Dora Labouchere. They were among those good 
friends who, with Miss Vyver, helped to rouse her 
from the shock and nervous prostration following 
on the sudden death of her stepbrother, George Eric 
Mackay. Mr. Labouchere has never been known to 
try the satiric edge of his tongue against his 'Mittle 
friend," as he calls her; and she is always a most 
welcome visitor to his house in Old Palace Yard. 
****** 

Quite lately there has been a singular journalistic 
incident which must be considered as particularly 



Some Personal Items 319 

unfortunate, having regard to some of Miss Marie 
Corelli's previous experiences of newspapers. A 
** private and confidential " letter, written by her to 
the editor of a ladies' paper, was published by that 
editor in his journal with the appendage of a very 
discourteous reply. The incident arose out of the 
Highland gathering at Braemar, at which place Miss 
Corelli had been staying for some weeks. This 
gathering, which was honored by the presence of 
his Majesty, was attended by Miss Corelli and a 
party of friends. Miss Corelli, as her thousands of 
readers have no need to be told, did not require, or 
seek for, a "mention in the papers" in consequence 
of her attendance at the function. Had she done so 
she could easily have paid for it in the ''fashionable 
announcements." She attends many gatherings in 
connection with which her name is never men- 
tioned, but she does not write complaints — con- 
fidential or otherwise — on that score. Some people 
like to suggest that Marie Corelli, whose circle of 
distinguished personal friends is remarkably large, 
is more or less friendless and without social sur- 
roundings, a suggestion that, pitiful as it is, is 
somewhat amusing to those who are favored with 
her close acquaintance. 

On the occasion in question Miss Corelli wrote a 
note marked "private and confidential," asking the 



320 Marie Corelli 

editor of the ladies' paper not " why her name was 
not mentioned," but "why it was omitted" — a dis- 
tinction with a difference in this case— for she 
happened to be the hostess of a party whose names 
were included in the newspaper notice, and who 
were surprised and indignant at the fact that, 
whilst their names were mentioned, that of their 
notable hostess was left out. It was at the sugges- 
tion of one of these that Miss Corelli wrote the 
"private and confidential " letter which the editor, 
without consulting her, rushed into print. The 
result of her harmless inquiry is well-known. The 
publication of the communication brought a shoal 
of letters to the famous author from men and 
women of "light and leading," assuring her of 
their sympathy in this outrage. Amongst the 
writers of these letters were several very distin- 
guished journalists, a fact which lends emphasis to 
Miss Corelli's knowledge that, notwithstanding her 
tilts with the Press, the bulk of the journalists of 
the country do honor to their profession and totally 
disapprove of such an act as the publication of a 
"private and confidential" communication. We 
hear that printed slips containing her letter to the 
editor in question, and the latter's reply, were sent 
by some one for circulation through the town of 
Stratford-on-Avon. Such a proceeding, whoever 




Winter at " Mason Croft " 



Some Personal Items 32! 

was responsible, could have been followed with 
only the one object of endeavoring to make Miss 
Corelli appear in an unfavorable light before the 
neighbors and friends among whom she resides. 

It is pleasant to learn that this precious campaign 
entirely failed. The editor of the local journal, 
the Stratford-on-Avon Herald, duly received his 
slips of this correspondence, the hope probably 
being that he would reproduce them in his journal. 
He however took no notice of these " hand-bills "; 
and the good citizens of Shakespeare's town gener- 
ally are far too conscious of Miss Corelli's affection 
for them and unfailing sympathy in all their inter- 
ests, to feel anything but unmeasured contempt for 
any effort to injure her in their esteem. People 
hastened to call at Mason Croft and express their 
indignation at the treatment she had received, and 
they found her, as usual, busily working, happy 
and unconcerned. To one friend, an M.P., who 
expressed his views on the subject with consider- 
able expletive, she said quietly, *'0h, well, it really 
doesn't matter! The editor has condemned himself 
by his own action. My letter, asking merely why 
my name was omitted, was quite a harmless 
epistle, surely .? It scarcely merits an imprisonment 
in the Tower!" 

The Daily Express acted somewhat curiously on 



322 Marie Corelli 

this occasion. Having copied the whole of the 
''private correspondence," it was suggested that 
this paper might possibly be laying itself open to 
penalties of the law for "breach of copyright." 
Whereupon haste was made to send the following 
telegram to Miss Corelli: " Have asked our corre- 
spondent to call upon you. We will print with 
pleasure any statement. Sorry our article did not 
please you. Would like to make amends. — Daily 
Express. 

The desire, however, to "make amends" does 
not appear to have been very hearty, because soon 
afterwards a second article on the subject appeared 
in The Daily Express, stating that there was "no 
law to prevent the publication of a private and 
confidential letter," unless it bore a legal "confi- 
dential stamp." And at the same time Mr. Pearson 
wrote to Miss Corelli to say that he thought the 
editor who had published her "private and confi- 
dential " note was "perfectly justified" in his 
action! But there can be no possible justification 
for publishing a letter of confidence. Business 
would be impossible under such circumstances. 
The mistake Miss Corelli has made in the past 
has been to condemn the Press and pressmen for 
the shortcomings of individuals who represent only 
themselves and not a profession. She has been 



Some Personal Items 323 

misunderstood on the matter, but her hearty good- 
will to journalists is well-known to many of the 
craft who are proud to be within the pleasant circle 
of her intimate friends. 

****** 

A section of the Press finds pleasure in accusing 
Miss Corelli of " self-advertisement." If it were at 
all true that she has any proclivities that way, 
she would surely accept the frequent and urgent 
offers made to her to lecture in the United States, 
on almost fabulous terms. 

Again, a chance for "self-advertisement " offered 
itself to Miss Corelli in the invitation of Edinburgh, 
last year, to open the Home Industries Exhibition, 
in Waverley Market. People hoped for her coming, 
and urgent letters were sent to her assuring her that 
she would receive a splendid welcome. Miss Co- 
relli, however, declined the tempting proposal, 
which, if the "advertising" accusations were in 
any way well-founded, seems a short-sighted waste 
of opportunity on her part. As a matter of fact, 
she seldom takes the chances of notoriety that are 
so frequently offered to her; but it would be easy 
to name a dozen or more periodicals which are 
glad to make advertisements for themselves out of 
some specially contrived attack upon her. The 
public, however, sees through this, and, understand- 



324 Marie Corelli 

ing the motives of action, are all the more loyal 
to Marie Corelli and her work. Britishers are famed 
for their love of "fair play," and the spectacle of 
several able-bodied men engaged in steadily 
" hounding " a woman who has made her way 
without their assistance by the fuel of her own 
brain and energy, does not appeal to the majority. 
They see no fun in it, but only an exhibition of 
cowardice. 

While on this subject, it may be mentioned that as 
soon as certain sections of the Press discovered that 
Marie Corelli was among the favored few who had 
received an invitation from the King to be present 
in the Abbey at the Coronation on August 9th, she 
was bombarded with letters and telegrams from 
several newspapers entreating her to write for 
them her "impressions" of the great ceremony. 
To all these applications she gave no answer. Her 
silence on such an occasion rather discounts her 
supposed" love of notoriety"! Truth to tell, her 
presence at the Abbey, as a guest of the King, 
created in some quarters quite a riot of fury. 

"We hear," said one paper, "that Miss Marie 
Corelli was among the King's guests in the Abbey! 
Marvelous! No doubt she wore a gown as gor- 
geous as her love of self-advertisement could make 
it! " Poor Miss Corelli! In the very simplest attire 



Some Personal Items 325 

of white chiffon and lace, she was one of the most 
unobtrusively dressed ladies present, as she wore no 
jewels, and had nothing indeed about her costume 
that could attract the slightest attention, though she 
was the "observed of all observers" at the lunch- 
eon held in the House of Peers after the Abbey 
ceremonial, not for her dress, but for her fame. 

Another incident may be aptly quoted here. 
When the King was attacked by his serious illness, 
the enterprising manager of a newspaper press 
agency made haste to write to Miss Corelli saying 
that it was necessary to " prepare for the worst," 
and would she therefore write her * 'impressions " 
of the King,— which meant, of course, an obituary 
notice! To which the novelist replied with consid- 
erable warmth that she had too much immediate 
concern for the dangerous condition of her Sover- 
eign, as well as too much honor for him, to " make 
trade" for the newspapers by writing ''obituary 
notices" of his life before he was dead! By the 
grace of God, she said, he would be spared to the 
Throne for many good and happy years to come. 
Such is the real spirit of the woman whom her 
more than malicious enemies accuse of " disloyalty" 
and "desire for advertisement." It is a satisfaction 
to give a few truths of her real disposition as op- 
posed to the unfounded falsehoods that are circu- 



326 Marie CorcUi 

lated about her. As a single example of her 
womanliness and womanly sympathies, it may be 
mentioned that no one has yet written a tenderer 
tribute to the virtues of the Queen than Marie Co- 
relli in " The Soul of Queen Alexandra," published 
last year in her " Christmas Greeting." 

***** ^ 

Two letters which were addressed to Miss Corelli 
by eminent preachers who have since passed away 
are of interest. In explanation of their inclusion 
it should be mentioned that Dr. Campbell, the 
successor of Dr. Parker at the City Temple, was 
exceedingly anxious to persuade Miss Corelli to 
open a great Nonconformist bazaar in the Dome 
, during the early part of last November. She would 
have been perfectly willing to do so had there not 
been a great agitation just then in the press con- 
cerning the Education Bill, for she judged that had 
she performed any special ceremony in any promi- 
nent way for the Nonconformist cause, she would 
again have been singled out for unfair attack. 

For several days she hesitated, her whole inclina- 
tion being to help the charity so urgently and 
eloquently pleaded for by the Rev. Dr. Campbell. 
During this time of indecision, however, she was 
made the subject of a violent discourse from the 
pulpit of a Nonconformist minister in another part 



Some Personal Items 327 

of the coufitry. This appears to have formulated 
her final resolve, for she wrote to Dr. Campbell, 
regretting her inability to comply with his request, 
and enclosing the "sermon" on herself from one 
of his own persuasion, concerning which she said 
that under such circumstances her opening of the 
Bazaar might do the cause more harm than good. 

Dr. Campbell, disappointed, but not dismayed, 
renewed his persuasions and prevailed upon several 
of his distinguished personal friends to write to 
the novelist and urge her to alter her decision. 
Among those who did so were Dr. Joseph Parker and 
the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes, to both of whom the 
sermon against the novelist had been sent for perusal. 
Dr. Parker wrote to Miss Corelli as follows: — 

Hampstead, 

October 6th, 1902. 
Dear Miss Corelli, — 

1 have just received a letter from my friend 
Campbell, and though I have to rise from my bed to 
write this note, I gladly make a very great sacrifice. 
I do not know the preacher whose sermon you 
send. 1 never even heard of him. Campbell I do 
know — refined, cultured, high-minded. Let me en- 
treat you to serve my true and good friend. What 
need you care for such an attack ? You do not live 
on the same plane as that nameless man. I read 
your book^ with inexpressible delight; why not 
pay more attention to my praise than to another 

1 " Temporal Power." 



328 Marie Corclli 

man's slander ? Now do send me a wire or a card 
or a letter, and say that you will open the Bazaar at 
Brighton. 

Very tired, 

Very dispirited, 
Ever sincerely and hopefully yours, 

Joseph Parker. 

The note from the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes ran 
thus : — 

Memorial Hall, 
Farringdon Street, 

London, E. C. 
October 6th, 1902. 
Dear Madam,— 

1 find that my friend, Mr. R. j. Campbell, of 
Brighton, has asked you to open a Bazaar in the 
Dome. I take the liberty of expressing a very 
earnest hope that you will be able to comply with 
Mr. Campbell's request. Mr. Campbell occupies a 
quite unique position among us, and any kindness 
shown to him will be a kindness to us all. 
1 am, dear Madam, 

Yours sincerely, 
Hugh Price Hughes. 
Miss Marie Corelli. 

Miss Corelli, however, who was just at that time 
being made the subject of some particularly veno- 
mous attacks concerning her romance, "Temporal 
Power," felt compelled to maintain her refusal, 
though much to her own great disinclination and 
regret — a regret that we share, for we should like to 
be able to record that she opened the bazaar after all. 



Some Personal Items 329 

The following letter, which deals with a critique 
on "Temporal Power," is most interesting from 
the point of view that it was written by one lady- 
novelist in defense of another; it possesses all the 
more weight seeing that Mrs. Rentoul Esler is an 
entire stranger to Miss Corelli. 

THE ETHICS OF CRITICISM 

To the Editor of the ''Sunday Sun'' 

Sir —When a new book appears there are only 
two points on which the reading public requires 
enlightenment. These are the subject of the book 
and the manner in which that subject is handled. 
All else is apart from the best interests of literature, 
and the literary life. When a book from Miss 
Marie Corelli is issued it seems the fashion in press 
circles to discourse largely and loosely of the writer 
and to say little or nothing of her work. 

The abuse poured on this lady seems to do the 
sale of her books no harm— it may even increase 
it— and the supposition is suggestive— but as books 
and the making of them have an interest apart from 
the commercial one, it seems time that a protest be 
made against the unworthy treatment to which one 
individual is habitually subjected. 1 have no per- 
sonal acquaintance with Miss Corelli, and her books 
give me no more pleasure and no less than do those 
of Mr George Meredith, whom your critic seems to 
place in antithesis to her, this also being the fashion 
of the moment; it is not in defense of a favorite 
writer that I wish to express an opinion, but in 
defense of those qualities that render criticism an 
honorable calling. - ^t 

The heading of the critique in your issue of 



230 Marie Core Hi 

August 31st, and the introductory section, were 
alike unworthy of a literary paper and of the pen of 
a gentleman. The charges of self-advertisement 
are insulting and untrue. There are few writers 
who owe as little to the paragraphist as Miss 
Corelli, while the flouts and jibes flung at her be- 
cause her books sell extensively are merely stupid. 
The size of an edition of any book depends on the 
publisher's knowledge of the demand that awaits 
it. It might be better, in the interests of literature, 
to keep commerce and literary merit in separate 
compartments, but as long as such critical organs as 
The Bookman make a regular feature of tables of 
sales from Provincial and Metropolitan booksellers, 
it is neither logical nor brave to pour vials of scorn 
on one writer because her publisher announces that 
the first edition of her book will be large. 

The subject of Miss Corelli's book seems a 
legitimate one; 'Mf I were King" has appealed to 
the moralist, the fictionist, and the dramatist time 
out of mind. When a biography of this popular 
writer is called for, the critic may then be personal 
and impertinent if it seem good to him, but in con- 
nection with the discussion of a book personalities 
regarding its author are unfair and in the worst 
possible taste. 

As an interested reader of the critical opinions in 
the Sunday Sun since the first issue of that paper, I 
consider myself entitled to protest when a journal 
of such eminence descends to methods that are 
neither amusing, informative, nor well-bred. Even 
a popular writer is entitled to fair treatment, and it 
is of the utmost importance to every branch of 
literature that those who undertake to form public 
opinion should remember that the rostrum has 
obligations as well as privileges. 

E. Rentoul Esler. 

The Heath, Dartford. 



Some Personal Items 331 

Mrs. Rentbul Esler is herself a writer of distinc- 
tion and power, and is thus able to express herself 
with the vigor and lucidity which carry conviction. 
Her letter is a clear call for that " Fair Play " 
which Marie Corelli has been demanding for so 
long. 

4e 4c « « 4c ♦ 

That the novelist is well able to retort upon un- 
friendly critics is shown by a few verses addressed 
by her to The Quarterly in her "Christmas 
Greeting" (1901). A lacerating article concerning 
Miss Corelli and her work had appeared in The 
Quarterly, and it drew from her the following little 
epigram : — 

TO THE QUARTERLY 

WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON 

Greeting, old friend ! A merry Christmas time 
To you, who nothing merry ever see ; — 

Great Murderer of poets in their prime, — 
Why have you struck at me ? 

With vengeful hooks of sharpened critic-steel 
You tortured giants in the days gone by, — 

And now upon your creaking, rusty wheel, 
You'd break a Butterfly ! 

Alas ! you're far too cumbrous for such things ! 

Your heavy, clanking axle drags i' the chase ; — 
The happy Insect has the use of wings, 

And keeps its Sunshine-place ! 



CHAPTER XVIII 

AT STRATFORD-ON-AVON 

A REVIEW of Marie Corelli's life from the time 
she left her convent-school to the present day, 
shapes as a record of intellectual activity rather 
than one of movement or incident of an anecdotal 
nature. But although the novelist has never 
actually gone out of her way to study local color, 
she has traveled all over Europe; as, during her 
stepfather's long illness and the constant strain of 
anxiety entailed upon her by his condition, it was 
necessary for her to take at least one month's rest 
and change of air in the course of each year. 
These annual holidays were spent in various parts 
of Europe — in France, Italy, Holland, Switzerland, 
and Germany — and during her travels she was 
never idle, but always at work recording notes of 
scenes, seasons, and events. The locale of Comb- 
martin was carefully studied by her before she 
ever wrote "The Mighty Atom "; and, as the many 
tourists who have visited the neighborhood since 

on account of the story can testify, both that village 
332 



At Stratford-on-Avon 333 

and Clovelly'have been faithfully represented. But 
some of the scenery in her other books, though 
correct in detail, has never been visited by the 
novelist at all. "Thelma," which is a frequent 
companion-volume to travelers in Norway, has 
certain scenes depicted which are now shown by 
local guides as associated with the novel, but the 
writer herself has never visited Norway. 

It maybe remembered that in "Anne of Geir- 
stein" Walter Scott gives an exact description of 
Switzerland; but at the time he wrote the novel 
he had never seen that country. We have already 
told how Sir Henry Drummond Wolff, a great 
authority on Persia, called on Miss Corelli shortly 
after the publication of "Ardath"to inquire per- 
sonally where she had resided in the East, to be 
so familiar with Eastern color and surroundings; 
and he was very much surprised to learn that 
she had never visited the East at all, nor had 
any idea of going there. In the same way, 
though "Vendetta!" is an essentially Neapolitan 
story, she has never seen Naples. Nor does she 
"read up" for her local color. When asked to 
explain how she manages to convey herself in 
spirit to countries with which she is entirely un- 
acquainted, she replies: "I imagine it must be 
so, and I find it generally is so." As she stated 



334 



Marie Corelli 



in her lecture at Edinburgh on "The Vanishing 
Gift," she thinks Imagination is a decaying faculty 
in the present day. "People seem unable to 
project themselves into either the past or the 
future," she says, "and yet that is the only way 
to gauge the events of the present." 

Marie Corelli is a fair linguist, having a thorough 
knowledge of French and Italian. She can read 
Balzac and Dante as readily as she can read Walter 
Scott — these three, by the way, being particular 
favorites of hers. 

Marlowe describes a library as containing "in- 
finite riches in a little room." Though no million- 
aire in her possession of this kind of wealth, Marie 
Corelli has gathered about her a set of volumes 
which is representative without being cumbersome. 
Her books are not stored in a stately room that is 
held sacred to them and them alone, but they are 
here, there, and everywhere, in drawing-room, 
working-den, and bedroom. She is not a bookish 
woman — in the reading sense — but she reads dis- 
creetly, and has many widely different friends 
between covers. Nor is she a miser in this respect, 
for she gives and lends as readily as she buys or 
borrows. 

Many of those interested in the novelist's move- 
ments have wondered what attraction drew Miss 



At Stratford-on-Avon 335 

Marie Corelli to Stratford-on-Avon so greatly as to 
persuade her to settle there. The cause is a very 
simple one. From her earliest childhood she had 
been encouraged by her adopted father, Dr. Charles 
Mackay, to entertain a great adoration for the name 
and the works of Shakespeare, and before she was 
nine years old she used to recite, at his request, 
whole passages from the plays of the great Master. 
When she returned from school, he promised to 
take her for a " pilgrimage," as he termed it, to all 
the places made notable by Shakespeare's associ- 
ation with them, and to this pilgrimage she had 
looked forward with the greatest expectation. But 
it was never to be, for Dr. Mackay's illness came on 
and prevented all such plans of pleasure from being 
fulfilled. 

When the aged poet died, and his adopted child, 
broken-hearted at his loss, and feeling herself 
utterly alone in the world, knew not how to endure 
the weary days following immediately on his death, 
she suddenly bethought herself of the "pilgrimage" 
she and the dear one she had loved so well had ar- 
ranged to make together. She determined to carry 
out the plan, and her friend Miss Vyver (who lost 
her mother in the same year as that of Dr. Mackay's 
death) accompanied her, as did her stepbrother, 
Mr. Eric Mackay. With sorrow as well as interest, 



336 Marie Corelli 

she went over every scene her early teaching had 
made her familiar with, and was so charmed with 
Warwickshire, and Stratford in particular, that she 
was anxious to leave London then at once, and take 
up her residence in Shakespeare's town. This was 
in 1890, when only four of her books had been 
pubHshed. 

Her wishes in this respect, however, she sub- 
ordinated to those of her stepbrother, who pre- 
ferred London; but from that time she always 
cherished the memory of Stratford-on-Avon, and 
hoped she would be able to return thither. Finally, 
in 1898, when Eric Mackay's death deprived her of 
her last remaining link with her childhood, save 
her ever-faithful friend Miss Vyver, and when she 
was extremely ill from the effects of long sickness, 
followed by the nervous shock of Eric's sudden end, 
she turned her thoughts to the old town again, and 
decided to take a furnished house there, to see if the 
place agreed with her health. She rented ** Hall's 
Croft" for a few months, then "Avon Croft" 
(where the "Master-Christian" and "Boy" were 
finished), and, finding that the soft, mild air did 
wonders for her, and gradually reestablished her 
strength, she decided to remain. 

The only house available in the town for a 
permanency was "Mason Croft," a very old place 




The Elizabethan Watch Tower, Mason Croft 



At Stratford-on-Avon 337 

in a sad state^ of disrepair, its last "restoration" 
bearing the date of 1745, but, as it was all there was 
to be had, she risked taking it on trial. Gradually 
improving and restoring it, she has now brought 
it back to look something like it must have been 
in the fifteenth century, when it was quite an im- 
portant house, requiring a *' watch-tower," wherein 
a watchman was set to guard the property, and 
which still stands in the garden, having been 
transformed into a cozy summer "study" for the 
novelist. Every month sees some new addition 
to the charming oak-panelled rooms, which are 
essentially home-like, and Miss Corelli's love of 
flowers, which amounts to a passion, shows itself 
in the mass of blossom which in winter, equally 
as in the summer, adorns her "winter-garden," 
leading out from the drawing-room. 

She is very fond of the home she has made, and 
fond of the town in which it stands, and her reason 
for living in Stratford arises simply out of the old 
cherished sentiment of her childhood's days when 
she was taught to consider the little town as the 
real "Heart of England," where the greatest of 
poets had birth, and where her idolized stepfather 
had promised to " pass many happy days with her." 
She takes the keenest interest in all the joys and 
sorrows of Stratford's townspeople, and grudges 



338 Marie Corelli 

neither trouble nor expense in anything that may 
bring them pleasure or good. 

It is well-known that she thinks it regrettable 
that the Memorial Theatre should be so little used, 
owing to the high fees asked for it, and that good 
actors should find it impossible to risk going down 
to perform there, unless their expenses are guaran- 
teed, particularly as it is the only ** self-endowed" 
theatre in England! She possesses an interesting 
letter from the late Charles Flower, who gave the 
largest share of the money required to build the 
place, in which it is plainly set forth that his idea 
of the theatre was to let it at a merely "nominal 
fee," in order that the best actors might go to Strat- 
ford and play Shakespeare's works, in the best 
manner, to the Stratford townspeople, who were 
only to be asked "popular" prices for admission. 
But, since that estimable benefactor's death, things 
have not been exactly on the footing he thus sug- 
gested, and for more than half the year the theatre 
is empty and useless, which seems a pity. "How 
much better," says Miss Corelli, "it would be to 
see the theatre full, and the public-houses empty!" 
In which most people will agree with her. But 
though her opinions are very strong on these and 
other points concerning some matters at Stratford, 
she never interferes or puts forward any suggestions 



At Stratford-on-Avon 339 

that she considers might be resented. The only 
time she did put her foot down was when Sir 
Theodore Martin wanted to break into the antique 
sanctity of Shakespeare's resting-place in the Church 
of the Holy Trinity, and in that campaign all the 
world v/as with her, as well as Stratford itself. She 
does all the good she can in the neighborhood; she 
has quite revivified the Choral Society; she gives 
short, simple addresses to workmen and school- 
children; she opens bazaars and sales of work, and 
by her presence at such functions brings much- 
needed pecuniary help to institutions which always 
feel, to a greater or less extent, the pinch of poverty. 
The desire to do good to one's fellow-creatures 
must animate every writer whose work is not 
solely the product of intellect. When there is 
'• heart" in a book, there must be a heart that can 
throb for others in the author of it. Pass the lives 
of eminent authors before you in rapid mental re- 
view, and you will find that most of these authors 
were constantly performing kindly actions. The 
great souls of Dickens and Thackeray— of the latter 
especially — prompted them to do many generous 
things. It is said that when, as an editor, Thack- 
eray found a letter with a manuscript telling a tale 
of pathetic circumstances, he would sometimes 
(when obliged to return the manuscript) scribble 



34© Marie Corelli 

out a check on his own account and send it back 
with the rejected story. Turning to women writ- 
ers, has not Mrs. Gaskell, in her touching life of 
Charlotte Bronte, told us how she and the poor 
Yorkshire clergyman's daughter paid sundry after- 
noon calls in the Haworth district, and how wel- 
come was the novelist's " quiet presence" in many 
humble homes ? Ruskin's kindness and open- 
handed charity, as one who visited him has told us, 
were proverbial in the Brantwood neighborhood. 
The history of Dr. Johnson's home life proves 
amply the tenderness which lay behind his pom- 
pous and dictatorial manner. Poor Goldsmith's 
generosity amounted almost to a vice, for he would 
borrow a guinea to give to a friend in need and 
empty his pockets for a whining mendicant. His 
philanthropy was wholesale, and quite lacked any 
sense of proportion. Scott worked himself to 
death to pay off the debts of the publishing firm in 
which he was concerned; — turn where you will, 
you find that the men and women whose work in 
life has been the making of songs and dramas and 
novels, have ever been keenly alive to the distress 
prevalent among their fellow-creatures, and have sel- 
dom been guilty of anything approaching selfishness. 
It would not be meet in the present work to touch 
in any but the most passing way on Miss Corelli's 



At Stratford-on-Avon 341 

practical philanthropy. But it is only due to her, 
in a biographical work published mainly to explain 
what she is — as opposed to what so many malicious 
paragraphists have declared her to be — to pay a 
tribute to her consideration for others, and her de- 
sire to make the best use of such worldly posses- 
sions as the extensive sale of her works has natu- 
rally brought her. 

Those, however, who accuse her of ** self-adver- 
tisement" will do well to remember that by such 
an absolutely false clamor they are depriving many 
in need from assistance which they might obtain 
were the novelist certain that her actions would not 
be misrepresented and misconstrued. For nothing 
makes her happier than to see others happy. She 
has helped many strugglers in the literary profes- 
sion, too, and literary men and women who dis- 
parage her may be surprised to hear that she has 
herself never been known to say an injurious word 
with regard to any one of her fellow-authors. 

It may be asked — what is Marie Corelli's life-pro- 
gramme .? Most writers have a definite object in 
view — this one to achieve immortality; that one to 
make money. What is Marie Corelli's ? 

Briefly, she writes, — has always written, — to 
reach the hearts and minds of those thinking peo- 
ple of to-day who are striving to combat the sub- 



342 Marie Corelli 

tleties of the Agnostic and Atheist; to strengthen 
their faith in the truth, the reality, the goodness of 
God and Christianity; the people who have hearts 
that throb with tenderness, hope, love and sincerity. 
She would purify society. She would exalt every- 
thing that is noble and good. She would destroy 
the rule of unbelief and insincerity, and raise in its 
place ideal characters and conditions strongly built 
upon a foundation of faith and truth. Such is 
Marie Corelli's programme. 

The interest taken by the novelist in social ques- 
tions has led her to correspond with workingmen's 
clubs in America and the colonies, and not a few 
papers have been written by her to serve as subjects 
for discussion in such institutions. 

But what of that self of which so much has been 
heard ? It is a personality striking in its simplicity 
and in its power. Marie Corelli is a woman of 
women, simple in her tastes, strong in her faiths 
and her aims, with a heart full of sympathy for 
others, living a busy life that from its productive- 
ness in the world of literature is a constant influ- 
ence for good in the hearts and homes of thousands 
the world over, and, in its private relationships, a 
source of help, inspiration, and benefit to those 
with whom she comes in contact. 

That she is not merely a lover of Shakespeare, 



At Stratford-on-Avon 343 

but a Shakespeare enthusiast, is known to all her 
friends; she would see the day come, if possible, 
and help to speed its coming, when the whole 
town of Stratford-on-Avon shall be a Shakespeare 
memorial. She would exclude steam-launches and 
all similar misplaced modernities from the peaceful 
Avon; she would have every new building that is 
erected in the birthplace of Shakespeare constructed 
in accordance with the architecture of the Master's 
day; she would sacredly and lovingly guard every 
old building and the form of all Stratford's old 
streets; she would have the storehouse, that exists 
there, of never explored sixteenth-century records, 
thoroughly ransacked and reported upon, as it 
should be, by competent and national authorities, 
and given an adequate place and publicity. We 
should hear little more then, we venture to assert, 
of Baconian theories. Miss Corelli would have, 
moreover (and perhaps the statement may help to 
further the object), a great development of the 
Shakespeare Festival at Stratford. She would like 
it to be the Bayreuth of Literature. She would 
establish a central Shakespearean Society, with 
branches all over the world, which would circulate 
notes of interest among all Shakespeare lovers, and 
hold annual conferences in connection with the April 
Shakespearean celebrations. 



344 Marie Corelli 

Now, as to Marie Corelli's "public." The great 
sale of her works proves it to be a vast one, and the 
fact that her publishers have not found it advisable 
to issue her in sixpenny form is clear proof that she 
commands the purses of those who are able to 
afford six shillings. And although the possession 
of money is no guarantee of literary taste, yet it 
stands to reason that the upper and middle classes, 
taken in the mass, are the chief supporters of litera- 
ture, and afford the best criterion of worth in their 
selection of books owing to the fact that their edu- 
cation is superior to that of people who are com- 
monly designated as "poor." But for the latter 
there are the free libraries, and the Corelli novels 
are in as constant demand wherever books are to 
be obtained for nothing, as at railway bookstalls, 
where there is not a halfpenny abatement of the 
full published price. Miss Corelli, then, being read 
by people of all classes, may certainly be said to 
have won over a considerable majority of the book- 
reading portion of the British race. 

And it must not be forgotten that she is perhaps 
the most extensively read of living novelists in 
Holland, Russia, Germany and Austria, where 
translations of her books are always to be obtained, 
or that her " Barabbas " and " A Romance of Two 
Worlds," in their Hindustani renderings, com- 



At Stratford-on-Avon 345 

mand a wide following among the native peoples 
of India. She is extremely popular in Norway and 
Sweden, and "Vendetta!" in its Italian translation 
is always the vogue in Italy, as is the French version 
of " Absinthe " ("Wormwood ") in France. There 
is no country where her name is unknown, and no 
European city, where, if she chances to pass through, 
she is not besieged with visitors and waylaid with 
offerings of flowers. Were she to visit Australia or 
New Zealand she would receive an almost "royal" 
welcome, so great is the enthusiasm in the "New 
World " for anything that comes from her pen. 

Marie Corelli's acquaintances are many in number, 
but her circle of friends is a small and carefully 
selected one. Shakespeare's " He that is thy friend 
indeed" can be applied, even in the case of a 
popular novelist, to but few persons. Where Miss 
Corelli is, there always is her devoted friend Miss 
Vyver. Between these two there is perfect under- 
standing and absolute sympathy. It goes without 
saying that, until the day of his death. Dr. Mackay 
held chief place in his adopted daughter's heart, 
and, though dead, holds it still. The kind old pub- 
lisher, George Bentley, was, perhaps, owing to his 
unceasing sympathy and delicate appreciation of 
her nature, the best friend Marie Corelli ever had 
outside her own family circle. 



34^ Marie Corelli 

But many of the social and artistic world's great 
personages are among her most frequent guests and 
correspondents. The numerous letters she has 
from famous men and women would almost make 
a journal of contemporary history. Many eminent 
persons appear to set considerable value on her 
opinions, judging from the questions they ask 
of her, and the urgency with which they press for 
an answer. 

During the South African War, representatives of 
all ranks at the front kept her informed of all that 
was going on, batches of letters reaching her from 
** fighting men" who were personally utter stran- 
gers to her, and whose names she had never heard. 
The gallant Lord Dundonald, who has long been a 
friend of hers, found time to write her one of 
the first letters that left his pen after he entered 
Ladysmith. And this kind of general confidence in 
her friendship runs all along the line. No one who 
has known her once seems inclined to forget her, 
while those who have really read her books become 
her friends without any personal knowledge of her. 

At Stratford this celebrated novelist lives a very 
quiet life. Of course she cannot escape the atten- 
tions of the curious, for Fame has its penalties; the 
Stratford cabmen, taking visitors round the old 
town, often pull up opposite Mason Croft to allow 




Miss Corelli's Boatman and Punt 



At Stratford-on-Avon 347 

their fares to gaze upon the residence of the popular 
writer. Sometimes her admirers, although absolute 
strangers, venture to call upon her; but there is an 
astute and diplomatic butler at Mason Croft who 
takes very good care that his mistress is not un- 
necessarily disturbed when she is working. 

It is this resolute working of hers that — coupled 
with her extraordinary gifts — has made the name of 
Marie Corelli one to conjure with. Week in, week 
out, she toils at her desk for several hours every 
morning, and it is by such methods of regularity 
and application that she has succeeded in writing 
such long, as well as such successful, novels. 

The following sketch, contributed to the Man- 
chester Chronicle last surhmer by the editor, Mr. J. 
Cuming Walters, affords a very complete picture of 
Marie Corelli as she is to-day: — 

In the old-world town of Stratford-on-Avon 
stands an Elizabethan red-brick house, its window- 
sills brightened with flowers which hang down 
in profusion and impart gaiety of aspect to the 
ancient and time-worn edifice. Here, near the 
Guild Church and the school that Shakespeare 
knew, in the quietest part of the town, dwells, with 
her loyal companion and friend, Miss Marie Corelli. 

What manner of woman is this most popular 
novelist of the hour, who has the reading world at 
her feet, and who has conquered the hearts of 
millions? Until lately she was thought to be a 
mystery. One has only to know her to marvel 



348 Marie Corelli 

why. For Marie Corelli does not shroud herself in 
obscurity, does not affect the life of the recluse, 
does not pretend to be other than she is — a win- 
some, warm-hearted, sunny-natured woman, who 
enjoys life to the full, and would have others enjoy 
theirs, who has ideals and tries to live up to them, 
and who asks only to be freed from vulgar intrusion 
and the slanderous shafts of unseen enemies. In 
her delightful Stratford home she lives in a serene 
atmosphere; she regards the spot as hallowed; she 
has the artist's love of the beautiful Warwickshire 
scenery, and the woman's tenderness for all around 
her; the cottagers know her charity, and all good 
causes enjoy her aid and patronage. Here she 
dwells in a happy environment, and works with 
ardor, for her day's labor begins at sunrise; yet she 
has always a spare hour for a friend, or a spare 
afternoon in which to act the gracious hostess 
towards visitors. 

What first strikes one on meeting Miss Corelli is 
her intensely sympathetic nature. She wifl be 
found in all probability amid her choice flowers 
in the spacious Winter Garden, and her face irradi- 
ates as she advances to meet you with outstretched 
hands and smiling lips. A small creature, with 
a mass of waving golden hair — " pale gold such as 
the Tuscan's early art prefers" — with dimpled 
cheeks and expressive eyes, almost childlike at first 
glance but with immense reserves of energy— that 
is Marie Corelli; but her chief charm, is perhaps the 
liquid softness of her voice. She began life as 
a singer and musician, and as one hears her speak it 
is easy to understand that had she not been a force 
in literature she might have been a controlling in- 
fluence in the world of song. In the hall her harp 
still stands, but more often her fingers stray over 
the notes of a piano, perchance making the instru- 
ment give forth a melody of her own composing. 



At Stratford-on-Avon 349 

A visitor 'is soon quite at ease. Formality is dis- 
pensed with. The keynote in Miss Corelli's house 
is Sincerity. She is a brilliant conversationalist, but 
a good listener too. She talks freely and without 
conscious effort, and one's faith in her is speedily 
inspired. What does she talk about ? Just enough 
about herself to make her auditor wish for more; 
yet, with a condescension that is all grace, she 
is eager to hear all that her visitor has to say on the 
subjects nearest his own heart. Particularly does 
she like the theme to be the old loved authors, and 
whatever one has to tell of Dickens, or Thackeray, 
or Tennyson — and even if one should have a theory 
about Shakespeare— in Miss Corelli he will find not 
only the ardent listener but a woman whose quick 
and well-stored mind enables her to take up readily 
a debatable point, to help to resolve some doubt or 
mystery, or to add profitably to one's own stock of 
knowledge. No one can converse with her for 
an hour and come away unenriched. 

Yes, she not only writes enchantingly, but she 
herself enchants. In her presence you are under a 
spell. " There's witchcraft in it." Her youth and 
her artlessness disarm you — you are left wondering 
how this fair young creature could have fought her 
way alone in the world (her life has been a battle), 
how she could have conquered opposition, and how 
she could have attained to her present supremacy. 
It may verge upon extravagance to say it, but there 
is something to marvel at in the fact that at an age 
long before that at which George Eliot had written 
her first story Miss Corelli had given us a dozen re- 
markable and original romances of world-wide 
fame, and there is no guessing what achievements 
yet lie before her and what position she may 
gain. Her powers are waxing rather than waning, 
and a month or two ago when the last two 
chapters of " Temporal Power" were in her hand, 



350 Marie Corelli 

we heard her say she hoped that in this book she 
had reached a higher stage than in any she had 
previously written. 

But it is not only as a writer, as a necromancer 
with a magic pen, that one may admire Marie 
Corelli. She is a very woman, too, with a 
woman's likes and dislikes, a woman's feelings, 
a woman's impulses, a woman's preferences and 
prejudices — and she is quite frank concerning 
all. You like her the better for being so purely 
human. She is never happier than when ar- 
ranging a maypole dance for the children or 
organizing Christmas festivities for the poor and 
helpless. Look round her charming rooms, and 
behold the evidence of the feminine hand there. 
Observe the taste of her dress — dress, by the way, 
which, with all its elegance, does not come from 
France, is not the "creation " or the " confection " 
of a Paris costumer, but is English in every detail. 
For there is no truer, more loyal, more patriotic soul 
than Marie Corelli, and she will tell you, with a 
touch of quiet pride, that every servant she has 
about her is English, that the cloth she wears is 
English, that the furniture of her rooms is English, 
and that she will endure none but an English work- 
ingman about her house. "England for the Eng- 
lish " is her motto, and she lives up to it herself, 
and loses no opportunity of trying to get others to 
adopt it. 

There are some who imagine that Miss Corelli is 
nothing if not caustic and critical, and they imagine 
that she is always running atilt against some person 
or other. Never was a greater delusion. Her chief 
fault is that she is too generous and her good nature 
too easily imposed upon. She will spend an after- 
noon in writing her name for the autograph- 
hunters; she will gladly address a gathering at a 
Pleasant Sunday Afternoon service; she will dis- 



At Stratford-on-Avon 351 

tribute prizes to children and make a felicitous 
speech; she will open a Flower Show; or she will 
lecture a huge throng in a public building on ques- 
tions of the day. Yet she does these things at 
some sacrifice, too, for wondrously calm as she 
may be at the critical moment of action, her nerves 
are sorely shaken both before and afterwards, She 
taxes her memory greatly also. It may perhaps 
scarcely be credited that the address she delivered 
at Glasgow, which occupied an hour and a half, 
was learned off by heart and spoken without a 
slip. 

But it is not our intention to reveal further of her 
private life; we know full well it would be dis- 
pleasing to herself if we did so, and an unwarrant- 
able breach of confidence. She is no notoriety- 
hunter. She does not cultivate the personal 
paragraph, and would no more tolerate the prying 
busybody than she does the camera-fiend who 
waylays her in the hope of obtaining snapshots. 
Why, she asks, should the veil be lifted merely to 
satisfy a vulgar and idle curiosity ? Her private life 
is as sacred as that of any other person, and it is 
merely pandering to a depraved modern taste to lay 
bare "the poefs house," as Browning put it. 

Outside should suffice for evidence : 

And whoso desires to penetrate 
Deeper, must dive by the spirit-sense. 

One remark only need be added: Miss Corelli 
has been the victim of much misunderstanding in 
the past, of some injustice, and — alas, that it should 
have to be said — of deliberate malevolence. Those 
who are privileged to enjoy her friendship best 
know her admirable qualities, and entertain none 
but the kindest sentiments towards her and the best 



352 Marie Corelli 

wishes for her continued triumphs. Her influence 
is vast and far-reaching. She writes with a pur- 
pose, she has used her gifts as she best knows how, 
and her fiery crusade, stern and determined as that 
of John Knox, against social evils and human 
follies, must make for lasting good. May this 
valiant woman, standing alone, battling for the 
right, yet add to her conquests! 



Here, then, let us leave her, with the parting 
benediction which fell from the lips of Mr. Glad- 
stone: *Mt is a wonderful gift you have, and I do 
not think you will abuse it. There is a magnetism 
in your pen which will influence many. Take 
care always to do your best. As a woman, you 
are pretty and good; as a writer, be brave and 
true. God bless you, my dear child! Be brave! 
You've got a great future before you. Don't lose 
heart on the way ! " 



THE END 



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